Chapter 79 The Corruption of Black Magic
Vaughn patted him on the shoulder, and the young wizard turned around, but he only saw a pair of eyes that shimmered with magical light.
A month later, Vaughn put all his reputation points into Legilimency, and now at level 3, he no longer needs to chant spells.
The young wizard's eyes were glazed over when he heard a seemingly familiar, friendly voice ask him, "Sir, do you know where Barty Crouch lives?"
That voice... is from my family, my dearest friend...
A strong thought surged through the young wizard's mind, and he immediately placed his trust in the voice, cheerfully replying, "He has two residences, one is the Crouch family's ancestral home, and the other is a house he recently purchased in the Muggle community. Which one would you like to know?"
"If you could tell me everything, that would be best."
"No problem, it's my pleasure to serve you..."
The young wizard happily shared the information he knew, and then bid a warm farewell to the voice.
A few seconds later, he suddenly shuddered and stared blankly at the night sky that had already entered the early hours of the morning.
"Uh... why am I standing here spacing out?"
He scratched his head in bewilderment, his memory clearly telling him that he had just suddenly drifted off into a daze and stood there like an idiot for about a minute.
He didn't notice anything unusual and quickly put it out of his mind because of his anxiety about getting to his night shift.
Just before entering the public restroom, he saw a boy in a purple-red robe raising a magic wand at a nearby intersection.
Before long, a double-decker bus, invisible to Muggles, sped by, and from afar, the receptionist's enthusiastic greeting could be heard: "Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, dear, where are you headed?"
The boy gave an address.
The young wizard overheard this from afar and chuckled at the coincidence, "He lives in the same Muggle community as Chief Crouch? Hmm, those are Wizengamot robes, maybe he's visiting?"
After thinking for a while, something seemed to trigger him, and he suddenly snapped to attention.
Then, the boy in the crimson robe completely faded from his memory...
...
A quiet Muggle community in the suburbs of London.
Barty Crouch emerged from the fireplace with a stern face. The living room lights were off. He frowned slightly. "Sparkle, where are you?"
Crack!
With a slight rustling sound, a house-elf dressed in a tea towel, so short that it looked like it was wearing a robe, appeared before Crouch and cried out in a shrill voice, "Master, Sparkle is here! Sparkle is taking care of the young master!"
As a female, her voice was shrill and gave Crouch a bit of a headache.
But he forced himself to remain calm, frowning sternly as he asked, "You released him?"
"No, Master," Shan Shan said fearfully, her large, dark brown eyes welling up with tears. "You ordered Shan Shan to lock him up, but Shan Shan dared not, but… but, Young Master hasn't been in the sun for a long time, and he's covered in bugs. He's in a lot of pain."
"..."
After a moment of silence, Crouch sighed.
He felt exhausted. For the past 10 years, regret, guilt, hatred, and grief had been tormenting him like maggots clinging to his bones.
In recent years, with the death of his wife and his own transgression of moral boundaries to use his power to save his son, an increasingly complex sense of guilt has been gnawing at his heart, especially now that he is living a life of hiding.
He didn't even dare to go back to his ancestral home. Too many familiar people and too many wizards lived nearby. He dared not reveal the slightest mistake, otherwise, the life his wife had sacrificed would have been meaningless.
Only the Muggle community could allow him to relax his tense nerves a little.
After thinking for a moment, Crouch sighed, "In two days, after the meeting ends, I'll take a day off and go out with him to get some sun."
Shiny cried tears of joy, desperately thanking her master for his kindness.
This struck Crouch as darkly humorous, and somewhat pathetic.
The son who should have been cherished and inherited everything from him is now imprisoned by his father, and even a house-elf would be grateful for a little stroll.
After seeing Shiny off, a weary Crouch sat on the sofa and spaced out for a while. For some reason, he started thinking about tonight's meeting.
And then there was Vaughn Weasley at the meeting, who seemed to want to drag him down with him.
An ambitious guy!
Crouch could understand the subtext: the so-called cooperation between the Werewolf Affairs Committee and the International Department of Magical Cooperation was actually Vaughn Weasley's attempt to completely break away from the Ministry of Magic, or even split it up.
After all, the other party has stated that the Werewolf Affairs Committee does not accept donations or grants, nor does it accept any obstruction.
If it were to be established, it would inevitably be in sharp opposition to the Ministry of Magic, so the other side is trying to find allies within the Ministry of Magic.
He couldn't help but think that if it were 10 years ago, he would have been very happy to participate in such a collaboration.
Forging friendly relations with an emerging power and increasing political leverage would be very advantageous, but unfortunately, he no longer has the energy to consider those issues.
Crouch paused for a moment, then shook his head, forcing himself to forget all the commotion.
He got up and prepared to go to the kitchen to make himself dinner.
However, before she could even step out of the living room, the doorbell rang.
Crouch wasn't overly sensitive. In order to connect the fireplace to the Floo network for his commute, he didn't hide his address, and it was perfectly normal for him to occasionally receive guests.
He glanced at the basement subconsciously; it had long been sealed off with Muggle cement and a spell, and no one could open it.
Normally, he relies on his shimmering phantom teleportation to enter and exit.
After confirming that there was nothing wrong with the basement, Crouch pondered for a moment and asked, "Who's outside?"
Unexpectedly, he heard a young voice that he now recognized: "Hello, Mr. Crouch, I am Vaughn Weasley. I apologize for bothering you, but may we have a chat?"
"..."
Crouch frowned and refused without hesitation: "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, it's late and I need to rest. Let's talk about it at tomorrow's meeting."
But Vaughn Weasley outside the door didn't seem to be giving up.
Crouch heard him chuckle, as if discussing the weather, and said casually:
"Are you sure? I thought that keeping your son locked up in the basement would make you patiently talk to me..."
In that instant, Barty Crouch felt blood rush to his brain, his ears were ringing, his vision was dizzy, and his mind went blank as he was struck by those words, which were spoken in a calm tone but contained a terrifying content.
Only one thought remained crystal clear—I can't let him leave! I can't let him tell anyone!
His sweaty hand gripped the wand tightly, and with a powerful swing, the door to the room flung open with a silent unlocking spell.
The moment the wind swept into the room from outside, Crouch unleashed two more spells in quick succession.
"Disarm you!"
"He collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious!"
In the magical world, things like wisdom and strategy, which Muggles pursue, are secondary.
In the world of magic, the standards for measuring things or judging a person are sometimes complex, and sometimes very simple—power!
Or rather, magic!
If the Wolfsbane Potion incident hadn't succeeded and the monthly reputation points hadn't skyrocketed, then Vaughn wouldn't be standing outside Barty Crouch's house today.
He will patiently wait for several more months or even a year.
Because he knew that when he exposed Crouch's deepest secret, the fearful Crouch would surely rebel!
The door swung open as if under a silent incantation.
The wind he inhaled whipped Vaughn's robes into a fluttering motion, and he saw a glimmer of light in the dimly lit living room, and heard Crouch's incantation.
In the wind, amidst the overwhelming killing intent, an armored spell appeared around Vaughn, and the disarming and stunning spells struck him almost the instant it formed.
The spells collided and burst into a dazzling light!
The next moment, Vaughn heard a crackling sound.
He swung his wand downwards, his body became light, and then—
boom--
A violent, invisible explosion instantly tore the door apart, and immediately afterward, a fire dragon suddenly expanded in front of it, fiercely lunging forward.
When you encounter a wizard who once fought on the front lines, you'd better be on guard when you hear him chanting incantations, as there may be even more insidious methods hidden behind those spells.
Vaughn was well prepared. When the fire dragon lunged at him, his body, which had become light, was blown away by the shockwave of the explosion, drifting away like a leaf.
His crimson robe billowed in the violent shockwave, resembling a raging fire. Vaughn remained calm, and before his swaying figure could land, he lightly tapped his wand downwards.
Several pieces of the shattered wall were immediately controlled by his spell, and then transformed.
In the blink of an eye, they had been transformed into several thick, gleaming spears, which, with the immense power provided by the Fly Away Charm, blasted into the small building in front of him like cannonballs as Vaughn waved his wand.
Bang!
Bang!
The roaring fire dragon, formed from flames, was torn apart by the terrifying kinetic energy of the spears. With each spear piercing through, the ground trembled, and the small building groaned and teetered on the brink of collapse.
Even as it landed, Vaughn's wand continued to tap lightly.
He used everything around him—fragments of doors and walls, large chunks of dirt, stones, branches—to transform them into several strange-looking animals under his magic wand.
At the same time, Crouch, who should have been inside the house, let out a hoarse shout from behind Vaughn:
"Soul leaving the body!"
Unforgivable Curse!
The Ironclad Curse is one of the few spells that cannot be defended against, but Vaughn, who knew the Ironclad Curse's weakness, was already prepared.
He reacted swiftly, flinging the transformed animals behind him, then turned around quickly, a red light flashing at the tip of his staff.
injection!
The disarming charm, as thick as an adult's arm, emitted a red light that illuminated the dark night sky, making it visible to both combatants. The animal that Vaughn transformed into perfectly blocked the Imperius Curse.
Crouch, who had appeared out of nowhere, had a ferocious expression, yet also a hint of surprise.
Vaughn's magic was so powerful, especially the disarming spell, that it was clearly beyond his comprehension, but it wasn't enough to leave him to sit idly by and wait for his death.
The experienced old wizard had already used Apparition again the instant Vaughn turned around. Space distorted around him, and when the red light struck in front of him, he had already disappeared in the violent distortion and reappeared more than ten meters away.
But this time, he paid the price for his incomprehension.
The disarming spell that had struck the spot where he had been moments before exploded like fireworks—
Countless tiny incantations, like little red snakes, slithered and bounced, covering an area of more than 20 meters in radius.
Crouch, who reappeared, almost crashed headfirst into two of the disarming spells that had split off from him.
Such an unexpected turn of events left him no time to summon his armor. He was suddenly frozen by the power of the spell, thrown backward, and his wand spun and flew into Vaughn's hand.
Crouch still tried to struggle.
But Vaughn's wand spun rapidly a few times, and several fallen leaves transformed into a rope, deftly binding Crouch.
Even now, the dust and waves stirred up by the shockwave from the earlier explosion had not yet dissipated, and Vaughn's crimson robes fluttered in the turbulent air.
A few Muggle households in the distance, which were relatively close by, had just turned on their lights, seemingly preparing to come out and see what had happened.
This was a battle that began and ended abruptly, and it was also a standard form of warfare for wizards.
The competition is about the proficiency in spells, reaction speed, and adaptability.
Vaughn breathed a slight sigh of relief; thankfully, he was excellent in every aspect!
But there was no time for him to reminisce. He glanced at the few Muggle houses with their lights on in the distance, and with a slight movement of his hand, Crouch, who was bound, floated to his side.
Then, he recited the incantation:
"Restored to its original state!"
With his magic now approaching that of an adult wizard, the restoration spell was enough to cover the battlefield, and soon, everything seemed to be rewound.
The leaning and collapsed houses stood up again, the blown-out doors and countless fragments were swept back and reassembled...
All traces were smoothed out and restored by the power of the spell, so when the Muggles with flashlights arrived in the area a few minutes later...
They saw only a small, detached house standing peacefully and quietly under the night sky, just as always.
...
Should we call the police?
"What, you still expect those idiots at Scotland Yard to do anything? Maybe it's just some kids secretly setting off fireworks again. Let's go home and go to sleep."
The Muggles outside gradually dispersed.
Vaughn lowered a corner of the curtain, waved his wand at the fireplace, and a small flame ignited, providing a faint light.
Crouch sat stiffly on the sofa, facing the fireplace, while Vaughn sat opposite him.
Looking at his cold expression, Vaughn smiled: "We meet again, Mr. Crouch."
Crouch twitched his cheek muscles, his eyes fixed on Vaughn, his mouth tightly shut.
"I understand how you feel right now—you're sitting comfortably at home, and suddenly someone comes along and spills your secrets that you've kept hidden for years. You're angry, you're terrified, you hastily try to fight back but find yourself no match for that person. Right now, you must be filled with frustration and fear…"
As he spoke, Vaughn shook his head: "But like I said, why don't you try to communicate with me?"
Crouch's eyes, which had been reflecting the light and fire, were now deep and dark in the night. After a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "There's nothing to say. And don't even think about using my secrets to blackmail me!"
"Huh? When did I say I was going to coerce you?"
Crouch remained unmoved.
Then he heard Vaughn chuckle across from him: "I just want to work with you, Mr. Crouch. Do you want your son back?"
Barty Crouch doesn't know if he's getting old; he's been having frequent dreams for the past few years.
The dream was not particularly magnificent or fantastical; it was simply a dim, warm sunlight, as if it were a long-forgotten memory.
In that dreamlike recollection, his life was peaceful, and his family still lived in their ancestral home, which had a huge garden that connected to the nearby mountains.
Laughter filled the garden every day. His son ran through the swaying shadows of the mountain forest, while his wife and he sat in a flowerbed full of forget-me-nots, smiling as they watched, with a sharp, shimmering sound nearby that no longer bothered him.
Then I woke up...
Many nights, as he touched his damp, cold pillow and relived his dreams, the coldness and bitterness of reality pierced his heart even more.
He was certainly filled with remorse, regretting that he had been obsessed with power, buried himself in his work, and neglected his son's education.
He also hated Voldemort for bewitching his son.
But as time went on, he realized that regret, anger, and resentment could not solve what had happened. The reality was that his wife was dead and his son had become a loyal Death Eater.
The child who once called him "Dad" with a smile, ran through the woods, and cried in his arms after falling down, has become a villain, a murderer, a madman who enjoys torturing others!
As Crouch thought about it, he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart.
He didn't want to show his pain or let anyone see his weakness, but the grief was too intense. It had been building up inside him for the past few years, and he had no one to confide in, not even daring to show the slightest sign of distress.
Vaughn had somehow dispelled the spell.
He didn't care, he hunched over, and as he tried to hold back his tears, they streamed down his face.
His hoarse voice trembled: "My son died long ago..."
It wasn't physical death; what died was the kind, smiling child from his memory.
Across from him, Vaughn looked at him gently: "What if I said I could bring him back? You may not know, but my memory magic skills are actually quite good."
As he spoke, he snapped his fingers.
Crouch glanced at Vaughn instinctively, then he was drawn to the boy's handsome face and his star-like eyes. When he came to his senses again, he was already standing in an unfamiliar place.
Before me was a huge, magnificent hall, at least several tens of feet high. Light from who-knows-where illuminated the hall, revealing its walls covered with densely packed shelves that stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling.
The shelves were piled high with books, and several spiral staircases went up and down automatically. Vaughn was standing on one of them, pulling out a book.
"here it is..."
"Welcome, this is my memory archive."
Vaughn, flipping through the book in his hand, smiled at Crouch, then waved his hand, and the book in his hand immediately disappeared.
The next instant, Crouch felt a weight in his hand as the book fell into his arms.
Crouch saw himself on the book cover, opened it, and found that every page recorded his encounter with Vaughn: him sitting in Wizengamo, his battle with Vaughn, and... him sitting on the sofa like a puppet, staring at Vaughn.
He suddenly realized: "Is this your memory of me?"
He looked around at the countless bookshelves and the countless books: "They..."
Vaughn appeared beside him at some point, and together they looked up at the surroundings. He said with emotion, "That's right, the Memory Archive. As the name suggests, the books on these walls are my memories, from when I was very young until now."
As he spoke, he looked at Crouch and asked with a smile, "Isn't it strange that I arranged it like this?"
Before Crouch, still reeling from the shock, could reply, Vaughn said, "As my mastery of memory magic deepens, I increasingly feel that the human memory mechanism is too abstract and inefficient. Of course, it could also be that natural evolution can only achieve so much; after all, nature is never perfect..."
"So I built this huge archive to reorganize and reorganize my memories, abandoning the original mechanisms and imitating libraries and Muggle computers to classify them, create catalogs, and perform keyword searches..."
Crouch listened intently.
This was a direction he had never considered before—the combination of magic and Muggle knowledge.
After listening for a while, he suddenly asked, "You want to use memory magic to reshape my son's personality by altering his memories?"
He sighed and shook his head: "It's no use. I also know some memory magic. I consulted Dumbledore a few years ago. Barty the Younger... He has been completely corrupted by dark magic. Cruelty and violence have penetrated his soul."
"I've tried memory manipulation, but it didn't work. The result is always the same. Because of his evil instincts, the modified memories will always be twisted and corrupted again, unless they are completely erased, but that would cause serious damage to his mind!"
As a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic, Crouch had many channels to access cutting-edge magic.
In his efforts to win back his son, he has considered many methods over the years, including memory magic, but they have all ultimately proven to be ineffective.
He was somewhat disappointed. He had initially felt a glimmer of hope after seeing Vaughn's magical prowess and novel ideas.
Vaughn was unconcerned about Crouch's disappointment; instead, he was more interested in Crouch's claim that he had tried memory magic but was ultimately corrupted and twisted by "evil."
In Vaughn's view, this is a very interesting phenomenon and a problem he encountered while studying magic—why can't modifications to memories have a lasting and sustained effect?
They will eventually be discovered by human consciousness, corrected, or forgotten (forgetting is actually a process of blurring), a problem he discovered a month ago when he conducted experiments on Harry.
It's as if a person's memory still exists somewhere as an original backup, a core database, which can only be completely destroyed by using methods like the Forgetting Curse to erase all the data (memories).
But as Crouch said, erasing memories can cause irreversible damage.
Vaughn has not yet found the cause, but he suspects it is related to the soul and personality, as many problems at the spiritual level ultimately boil down to these two.
His method, however, doesn't actually require considering this issue.
Seeing Crouch's disappointed and gloomy expression, Vaughn snapped his fingers again, and the magnificent Memory Archive collapsed like a sandcastle with that snap.
Crouch was dumbfounded.
Changes at the psychological level are all meaningful; everything before him signifies that Vaughn is destroying his own memories.
"You're crazy..."
As soon as he finished speaking, Crouch saw Vaughn's body suddenly turn into a gray, humanoid cloud of mist.
As the memory archive collapsed, the humanoid fog also disintegrated. When everything was swallowed by darkness, the fog completely disintegrated into shapeless mist and dissipated.
At the same time, new fog spread out from the boundless darkness, wriggling and combining, assembling a brand new humanoid fog mass.
At the same time, the outline of the Memory Archives was once again drawn out in the dark void, the foundation, the floor, the walls... the magnificent building rose up before our eyes at an incredible speed.
Perhaps in just ten seconds, Crouch found himself standing in that hall again, surrounded by towering walls, still piled high with books.
He watched in disbelief as destruction and rebirth unfolded, far beyond his comprehension of memory magic.
He heard Vaughn, who had reverted from the humanoid mist, say in a cheerful tone:
"That's right, Mr. Crouch. I can't solve the problem of dark magic corrupting memories and minds for the time being, but if I put on a set of clothes and destroy them once corruption occurs, wouldn't that avoid the problem?"
"This is the 'Personality Armor Alpha 0.3 version' that I developed!"
Chapter 80 Snape: Am I the only idiot?
Harry is a great test subject.
He has an innocent personality. When he decides that someone is trustworthy, he will cooperate easily if you tell him it's for his own good.
On the other hand, he lacked sufficient self-control. Even knowing that there would be punishment for making mistakes, he couldn't help but make mistakes and provided a large amount of experimental data by constantly violating the rules.
Over the past month, with Harry's help, Vaughn has gradually refined his original concept.
And the auto-responding personality will be developed into a true personality embodiment—a virtual personality with real thoughts, memories, and behavioral patterns, although it is only an Alpha version.
Crouch's expression turned strange after Vaughn finished explaining the original intention and principles of developing the Persona Body.
"So, I've been talking to a fake personality all along?"
"No, only after I invite you into my mental world, isn't that amazing? By the way, the person you're talking to right now is also a virtual personality, but don't worry, 'I' am still in the experimental stage. The template is based on myself, and the thoughts and behaviors are exactly the same as mine."
Crouch: "..."
He suddenly had a lot to say, but didn't know how to say it.
After a moment, he asked curiously, "Then where is your true personality?"
Vaughn smiled without saying a word.
Crouch understood. The other party had pulled him into the mental world and used a virtual persona to face him in order to hide the real persona and prevent him from also having memory magic and causing trouble here.
It's impossible for nature to reveal where one's true personality is hidden.
Crouch sighed. "Let me out. I want to talk to the real you."
"no problem!"
With another snap of his fingers, Crouch felt dizzy for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the living room.
The frequent changes in the scene made Crouch somewhat unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. He subconsciously grabbed the armrest of the sofa, the rough fabric still warm to the touch, bringing him a sense of security.
Across from him, Vaughn leaned back in his chair, legs crossed: "So, are you going to accept my offer? I'll heal your son, and you'll cooperate with the Werewolf Affairs Committee on wolfsbane potion, and at the appropriate time, do me a small favor."
Crouch remained silent for a moment, then asked, "How confident are you?"
"I don't know." Vaughn was very frank. "I need to carefully examine Mr. Barty's memories to confirm the state of his mental world and the extent to which dark magic has affected him before I can develop a treatment plan based on this information."
"As a potential partner, I need to tell you that Mr. Barty is also important to my research. To be honest, I have never really understood the mind of a completely corrupted dark wizard."
This was indeed the main reason why Vaughn came to see Barty Crouch.
Crouch clearly noticed it too. "You said you'd help you with some small things, and that's related to dark wizards?"
Vaughn smiled and said, "Yes, for example, you used your position to give me some dark wizards to study."
"..."
These words, which sounded a bit like something out of a Muggle TV show about evil human experimentation, actually put Crouch at ease.
This means the other party wasn't trying to fool him.
Through the previous demonstration and explanation in the mental world, Crouch also saw the potential of that strange persona. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Let me think about... how should I contact you?"
With this reaction, it's basically confirmed.
Vaughn's smile grew even more gentle: "You can send me a letter by owl, or you can contact Professor Snape via fireplace call and have him tell me an appointment time."
As he spoke, he handed Crouch a slip of paper with an address written on it and several "throw me into the fireplace" signs.
Crouch took it, gave a mocking laugh, and said, "You're so confident that I'll agree?"
"No, I'm just certain that a father will not give up on anything, no matter how small, to save his son!"
"..."
...
The inquiry meeting continued for the next two days.
Minister's Office.
Cornelius Fudge, his face grim, observed every move in the Wizengamo Conference Hall through the magic mirror.
This is within his power as minister; although he cannot participate in Wisengamo's decision-making, he can still observe from the sidelines.
Wizengamo itself does not refuse outside observation, and occasionally, when conducting trials, it even allows ordinary wizards to attend.
Watching the questioning session proceed calmly under Amelia's chairmanship, and looking at the central platform, Vaughn Weasley's hateful face casually responding to the harmless questions.
Fudge gritted his teeth and forced down a glass of strong liquor.
"Hahaha—"
He suddenly burst into laughter, laughing so hard he was shaking, then roared in anger: "Damn it, I want sherry, not this damn chug liquor, I don't want to laugh!"
"I'm sorry, esteemed Minister."
Umbridge hurriedly apologized and frantically replaced his wine glass with a new one.
"Damn Burns, damn Weasley… those damn bastards! You see, Umbridge, they won't even bother to cover it up, it's all just boring, pointless questions!"
Fudge used his angry outbursts to mask his panic and frustration.
Following the established procedure, the establishment of the Werewolf Affairs Committee after the inquiry meeting is virtually guaranteed. The purpose of this meeting is to identify problems with a proposal through questioning.
If the proposer can answer all the questions and gain the approval of the questioner, it means that he has carefully considered and planned the proposal in detail, which meets the principle of approval.
It is undoubtedly very painful to watch something that should belong to you be taken away from you.
Umbridge comforted him, "Minister, you don't need to worry too much. The Werewolf Affairs Committee has a very important problem: as an organization, it has no source of income. You've heard about it, haven't you? The other day, that Weasley kid even tried to win over Barty Crouch in order to solve his financial problems!"
She covered her mouth shyly, letting out a sharp laugh like a little girl: "But he underestimated your prestige. Barty Crouch completely ignored him. That old guy wouldn't dare to defy you. Just you wait and see how much money Weasley and Dumbledore can give those filthy werewolves to suck blood!"
Upon hearing this, Fudge finally smiled; suppressing Crouch was his proudest achievement.
And this thing that was originally his proudest achievement can now disgust Weasley!
Double the happiness!
Hmph, foolish and naive Weasley!
He gulped down another glass of wine, and then, in the magic mirror, he was astonished to see…
Barty Crouch, who had been as invisible as a ghost for days, suddenly raised his hand.
This move clearly left the Wizengamots bewildered. Amelia paused for a moment before, compelled by procedure, asking, "Mr. Crouch, is there a problem?"
Everyone stared at Crouch's thin, serious face.
He stood up, his voice weak but clear enough: "Mr. Vaughn Weasley, I would like to ask, what specific plans do you have for promoting the export cooperation of wolfsbane medicine, which you mentioned the day before yesterday?"
Bang!
Umbridge turned around nervously and saw the minister, his face ashen, slamming his wine glass to the ground.
The Wizengamot inquiry into the Werewolf Affairs Committee ended unexpectedly on its final day.
No one knows why Barty Crouch, who had been out of the public eye for many years and had almost exiled himself from the power struggle, suddenly lost his mind and jumped out at such a sensitive time.
During the meeting, everyone was carefully observing old Crouch. He seemed unchanged, still dressed the same as he had for years, meticulous yet gloomy, and still taciturn, as if he only had one pair of ears.
However, his mental state was clearly different; it was as if a dying person had suddenly seen a hope for survival.
Although he rarely spoke throughout the meeting, every time he did, he focused on the key issues regarding the cooperative export of wolfsbane medicine, and even directly communicated with Vaughn during the meeting to help Vaughn fill in some details.
Their cooperative and eager demeanor was completely undisguised!
In fact, everyone knew that after the establishment of the Werewolf Affairs Committee, it would inevitably face attacks and targeting from the Ministry of Magic, led by Fudge.
Even with the approval of Wizengamor and the fact that the Commission is a legitimate body in England, the Ministry of Magic cannot act directly. However, for such an authority, there are still many ways to exert influence indirectly.
For example, blocking the approval of potion sales, inciting public opinion and partners to boycott werewolves for earning Galleons, adjusting the raw material market, etc.
Of course, all of this is predicated on the harmonious and unified operation of all departments within the Ministry of Magic, and the effective execution of Minister Fudge's plans.
But now, before the minister's plan has even begun, it's about to be torn open!
"...The committee's biggest weakness before was the lack of income and official power, which was also Fudge's biggest advantage in turning the tide. But Barty Crouch's betrayal gave the committee a new channel—the international magical community!"
"With Barty Crouch's support, many of the problems that were previously a concern will now be resolved: the approval of potion sales? No problem, England's approval cannot affect other countries. At least with Crouch, the social butterfly, some countries with less common languages should be happy to open green channels for old friends—it turns out that knowing a few more foreign languages can help you make a lot more friends."
"The raw materials are scarce? No problem. Some countries with serious werewolf problems (such as those in Northern Europe) are mostly willing to pay for the raw materials plus Galleons in order to get the wolfsbane medicine as soon as possible."
"Restricting apothecaries? The Extraordinary Apothecaries Association's attitude is currently ambiguous, but regarding Extraordinary Potions, thanks to the calls from Dumbledore and Severus Snape, several apothecaries have expressed their willingness to be hired to brew wolfsbane potions. For example, Mr. Slughorn, that lovable yet cunning little old man, never misses an opportunity to become famous..."
"Although we still do not know exactly how Mr. Vaughn Weasley persuaded Barty Crouch, his involvement certainly made the successful conclusion of the questioning session even more perfect."
"This also signifies that the establishment of the Werewolf Affairs Committee has officially entered its countdown phase—reporting from Rita Skeeter!"
Amelia Burns put down her newspaper and looked at Vaughn with a half-smile:
"When did Rita Skeeter become your mouthpiece?"
While eating a cookie, Vaughn shrugged: "Maybe she was always a fair and compassionate journalist, but she used to focus too much on the story and neglect the pursuit of journalistic truth."
"Oh..."
Amelia chuckled. She had been interviewed by Rita several times and knew all too well the foolishness and malice in that woman's heart.
She didn't really care. As a staunch Dumbledore supporter and a politician, she knew that in political struggles, uniting all forces that could be united was the right thing to do.
While it is admirable to befriend the virtuous and distance oneself from the petty based on personal likes and dislikes, it is too idealistic.
but...
Amelia put down her newspaper, pinched her temples, and said with a mix of headache and curiosity, "I just told you the day before yesterday not to contact Crouch, but... come to think of it, how did you convince him?"
Vaughn didn't answer, but instead asked, "After seeing Crouch's performance today, do you think trying to win him over would do more harm than good?"
"...It's hard to say, but his mental state is definitely different, and his enthusiasm far exceeds my expectations."
Although she didn't quite understand, Amelia answered honestly.
It was Crouch, who was just loafing around and waiting to die, who lost his value, not Crouch, who was very cooperative and proactive with Vaughn's plan at the previous meeting!
Vaughn smiled.
When a father is driven to despair, he can indeed unleash energy far beyond what outsiders can imagine for the sake of his son and family.
Looking at the child sitting on the sofa in front of her, eating cookies, Amelia felt he was increasingly mysterious and unpredictable.
In the first few years, many people still had high hopes for Crouch, expecting him to emerge from the shadows of his life and lead everyone out of the slump of the Millison Barnard era (who was a rather appeaseing leader whose main strategy during her tenure was to bury her head in the sand; the current backwardness and inefficiency of the wizarding world is partly due to her).
Many people have tried to help him get back on his feet, including Amelia from back then.
But everyone failed, and everyone thought that the once iron-fisted Crouch was now a useless man!
No one could have imagined that this guy, whom so many old friends and colleagues couldn't pull out of the mire, would be conquered by Vaughn Weasley today.
Amelia was very curious about what method Vaughn had used.
Similarly, others were also curious.
As the two were chatting, there was a knock on the office door. Amelia coughed, straightened her appearance, and then replied, "Come in!"
The door opened, and a middle-aged man with an imposing presence walked in.
He was a middle-aged male wizard with thick, messy, long brown hair, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, but with extremely sharp eyes. His leg seemed to be a little lame, but his gait was long and aggressive, and every move he made exuded a tough style.
At first glance, it looks like a lion preparing for battle.
"Rufus?"
"Amelia!" The wizard's lips pursed slightly, his voice low and serious. He nodded to Amelia, then his sharp gaze fixed on Vaughn:
"Mr. Vaughn Weasley, I am Rufus Scrimgeour. Could you tell me how you persuaded Barty Crouch? As far as I know, he has been out of the political arena for a long time!"
"..." Vaughn, who had just stuffed a bite of cookie into his mouth, blinked, a little confused by his bluntness. "So?"
"Therefore, I suspect you used improper methods on him..."
Amelia frowned: "Rufus!"
Amelia was a little angry.
Rufus Scrimgeour is the head of the Auror Office, which is under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the Auror Office has a certain degree of autonomy due to the principle of separation between legislation and law enforcement, in name, the other party is still her subordinate.
But now her subordinates are questioning her guests in front of her.
"I'm sorry, Amelia."
Scrimgeour apologized, but his eyes never left Vaughn. "But as an Auror, I have reason to be suspicious of the facts, especially given the circumstances surrounding a high-ranking official like Barty Crouch, if he were under the Imperius Curse..."
"Enough! You're going too far, Rufus!" Amelia, not wanting to hear any more, was about to yell at Scrimgeour to leave.
Vaughn raised his hand: "It's alright, Amelia."
He looked with interest at Scrimgeour, whose messy hair was streaked with gray and who resembled an old lion, and smiled, "What would you do if I didn't want to tell you?"
Scrimgeour maintained his pouty expression: "If you don't want to talk, I can't force you, but you'll be under my watchful eye, and I'll be keeping an eye on your every move!"
"Of course, you can put pressure on me through other important figures. I know that Dumbledore is backing you. Yes, this rumor has spread throughout the entire wizarding world."
He twitched the corners of his mouth, which seemed to be a smile: "But as long as I sit in the position of the Auror's office director, you should be careful, there's a pair of eyes watching you!"
After saying that, he turned and left without any hesitation.
It seems that his appearance was solely for the purpose of delivering these warnings.
After he left, Vaughn looked at Amelia strangely: "Has he always been like this?"
"well..."
Amelia sighed. "You should ask how many people in the entire Auror office don't behave this way."
"Okay, how many are left?"
"...The only one I can think of right away is Kingsley Shackleton..."
After her initial outburst, Amelia still defended Scrimgeour, saying, "The Aurors are always on the front lines against dark wizards, so they can be quite direct and rude at times. A prime example of this is Alastor Moody. Believe me, one day you'll see him and realize that Scrimgeour is actually quite mild-mannered."
Vaughn smiled, seemingly joking, and said, "Ah, it seems that the Ministry of Magic still has many systems that need improvement. I think it is necessary to set up a psychological counseling department for the Auror Office. I am quite skilled in memory magic. Amelia, could you consider hiring me?"
Seeing that Vaughn didn't seem to care much about Scrimgeour's offense, Amelia secretly breathed a sigh of relief and replied jokingly, "If I ever become Minister for Magic, maybe I could consider it."
Vaughn smiled and replied.
He didn't take Scrinker's threat seriously.
This old lion is undoubtedly a qualified Auror, with a sense of justice and a strong mind.
Even when Harry was captured and tortured by Voldemort, his whereabouts were never revealed.
But that's about all his talent has to offer.
In the original story, with Voldemort's resurrection, Fudge's resignation, and Amelia's murder, after he became Minister of Magic, he made no effective decisions until his death in battle.
The only achievement of his ministerial career was distributing defense pamphlets to the wizarding residents...
Amelia didn't want to talk about Scrimgeour any further, so she changed the subject and asked, "What has Dumbledore been up to lately? I've hardly seen him around."
"He's probably investigating a case in some primeval forest right now!"
"?"
...
With a stern face and the hem of his long robe trailing behind him, Snape exchanged a secret signal with the hideous, dripping stone beast before heading to the headmaster's office.
Then he saw Dumbledore, travel-worn and with his beard and hair covered in dead leaves.
"ha..."
Snape let out a short, expressionless laugh to emphasize his sarcasm: "Your Excellency the White Lord, you've been gone for over half a month. I thought you were busy with some important matter in the wizarding world, but now it seems you might have just drunk too much and fallen into some tree hole?"
The shameless Dumbledore pretended not to understand and said with a friendly smile, "Severus, long time no see. How have you been? How's Harry?"
"Not so great. Your great savior has disguised himself as an owl, a Ravenclaw student, a hamster, a madman... and a stag lately, all to gain attention!"
When the last word, "stag," came up, Snape's face darkened, as if he were thinking of something he loathed.
Dumbledore shrugged it off: "What a vibrant youth, isn't it? Hmm... how about Vaughn?"
It has to be said that the person who understands Snape best is Dumbledore.
Snape's expression visibly softened. He didn't say anything, but simply took a newspaper from his pocket and handed it over.
"Ha, it seems you've been keeping an eye on your dear student."
"I just want to see how he'll ruin himself!"
"Don't be hypocritical. If you didn't care about him, you wouldn't carry a newspaper around with you... Oh—the interrogation meeting is over? Crouch actually supported Vaughn at the meeting? I feel like I missed a lot of exciting moments!"
After quickly glancing at the newspaper reports, Dumbledore narrowed his azure eyes slightly but said nothing more.
Snape couldn't help but feel a little strange: "Aren't you curious about how he was able to convince Crouch? Many people are very puzzled."
"Of course I'm curious." Dumbledore took off his glasses and wiped them, his expression calm. "But we have an agreement to protect our current trust and focus on doing more important things."
"For Vaughn, the Werewolf Affairs Committee is his most important task right now, and all his goals are to serve the establishment of the committee. I have no reason to, and do not want to, interfere."
"Just like when he needed me to step in the most, I chose to do what I thought was important, and he didn't interfere—this is a compromise and trust between two smart people, which is very precious!"
Snape squinted.
Hmph, I don't really understand you smart people!
He didn't care what agreement the two foxes, one big and one small, had made, and said directly, "Are you done asking? I still have to go back and revise your savior's thesis. Tsk tsk, it took me an hour to force myself to look at that pile of garbage without vomiting."
To his surprise, Dumbledore didn't speak, seemingly lost in thought.
After a moment, he said, "Severus, find some time to put Quirinas under pressure."
Upon hearing this, Snape frowned: "You want to speed things up? Why?"
According to the previously adjusted plan, he should have pressured Quirrell again at the end of the semester, thereby alerting the Dark Lord and causing him to resort to desperate measures and force his way through.
The reason for choosing that point was to wait for Harry to complete his Occlumency training.
Chapter 81 The Mystery of Tom and the Return to Hogwarts
Snape didn't know why Dumbledore wanted Harry to learn Occlumency.
Dumbledore's reasoning was that the Dark Lord and Harry's fates were intertwined, and that they might have some kind of connection on a mystical and spiritual level.
Dumbledore told him that Vaughn believed this connection would allow the Dark Lord to access Harry's memories and thoughts.
This reasoning sounded quite reasonable—at least to Snape, who knew nothing about fate and held it in awe.
Snape was once someone who despised fate.
Until the year Harry was born.
He overheard Silby Trelawney's prophecy.
The one capable of defeating the Dark Lord is approaching... born into a family that has resisted him three times, born at the end of July...
Having only heard these three sentences, Snape, worried about his master's grand plan, rushed back to inform Voldemort before hearing the rest of the prophecy.
Everything seemed like a cruel joke played by fate.
The true prophecy is... that the Dark Lord can choose his enemies, and once chosen, his enemies will possess powers he cannot comprehend.
Misled by Snape, the Dark Lord chose his mortal enemy, and his Killing Curse was reflected back at him by the "love magic" he could not understand.
He died, and so did Lily, who had cast the spell.
Memories of the past surfaced in his cold mind. Snape, who now kept his distance from fate, trembled slightly as he watched Dumbledore deep in thought.
His hands, tucked into his sleeves, clenched tightly: "Has...fate changed?"
"What?"
Dumbledore seemed to wake from a dream and quickly realized, "No, Severus, of course not. It's just that I discovered something on this trip and I want to verify it as soon as possible."
Snape breathed a sigh of relief, then resumed his cold tone, reminding her, "But Potter hasn't fully mastered Occlumency yet."
"It's alright, I'll urge Vaughn to speed things up, and besides, Quirinas will need some time to prepare."
"...I hope you understand what you're doing."
Dumbledore started playing dumb again, wiping his eyes with emotion: "My dear Severus, you still say you don't care about Harry?"
Snape's cheek twitched, he snorted, and strode away.
Once he was alone in the office, Dumbledore's smile faded, and he put his glasses back on.
He opened the map, and magic automatically drew a path on it—all the places he had been over the past few months.
That route extends out of France, jumps directly to Croatia and Hungary, then to Romania and Bulgaria...
Ultimately, that tiny footprint remained in Albania!
Dumbledore stared at Albania on the map, lost in thought for a moment:
"Have you been hiding here all these years? Why? Tom..."
...
As a prominent figure in politics today, Vaughn briefly enjoyed the privilege of not having to return to school.
Therefore, after the inquiry meeting, while waiting for the Wizengamot decision—which usually takes some time—the old wizards, whose lives are incredibly slow-paced, need to go home to rest in order to make up for the energy depletion caused by several days of meetings, and then send letters to vote.
Vaughn has not returned to Hogwarts yet.
He found a luxury hotel on Whitehall Street, above the Ministry of Magic.
Using the magical world's worthless paper, pounds sterling, he booked himself a luxury suite, supposedly a filming location for 007.
Vaughn, who had never lived in London in either his past or present life, was indulging in this rare luxury.
Unfortunately, the experience was not pleasant. He even felt it was not as good as Snape's house in Kirkworth, where at least there was an iron that would automatically iron clothes and clothes would be put on him by himself, making him clean and tidy.
In terms of pure enjoyment, Muggles are no match for wizards who possess a variety of household spells.
Aside from the fact that it's priced in pounds, the service is impeccable.
The next day, Vaughn made his decision for the third time: he would go back and learn household spells. With the help of his butler, he tied his tie, went downstairs, and got into the luxury car arranged by the hotel.
The driver asked, "Mr. Weasley, where are you headed?"
Vaughn handed him a note.
He had no plans to travel to the wizarding world today, but instead tried his best to dress like a Muggle. He was going to Granger's house to deliver a letter for Hermione.
The driver took the note, glanced at it, exchanged a few greetings, and then started the car.
Watching the scenery slowly receding outside the window, Vaughn suppressed the urge to chant a spell, feeling somewhat sentimental.
Without realizing it, he had become more and more accustomed to magic.
At some point, like many wizards, he began to see himself as belonging to another class and showed discomfort with everything about Muggles.
Should we consider this as his assimilation into this world?
Under the same sky, Mr. Granger had just finished mowing his lawn.
"Jane, what do you think?" (The Grangers are not named in the original book, but judging from Hermione's middle name, Jane is likely her mother's name.)
He looked up and smiled smugly at his wife, who was cleaning the terrace on the second floor.
Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes: "Your daughter trimmed it beautifully with magic at Christmas, and now you've ruined it all."
"Shh—" Mr. Granger hurriedly gestured for her to be quiet. He glanced furtively around before jogging back into the house. "Have you forgotten the warnings from those people in the Ministry of Magic? If a Muggle hears this, Hermione's studies will be over!"
"...You're a Muggle too!"
"No, we are different. Our precious daughter is a wizard, so as parents, we are half wizards."
Mr. Granger was very pleased with himself.
But his smugness soon faded when Mrs. Granger, cleaning the terrace, found several newspapers in the corner where her daughter usually stayed.
As she flipped through the newspaper, she suddenly exclaimed, "Redheads!"
"What red hair?"
"What else could it be? The one Hermione talks about all the time!"
Mr. Granger's face immediately tightened.
He snatched the newspaper from his wife's hand and looked at the photo of the red-haired boy surrounded by a crowd.
Damn it!
Thinking of the name his beloved daughter had been repeating every day during Christmas, Mr. Granger felt a pang of bitterness. He gritted his teeth and said, "Let me see... Vaughn Weasley... It really is that bastard, damn it!"
Mrs. Granger stood on tiptoe beside him, peering closely, but had a different opinion: "He's really handsome."
"...Which side are you on?"
Granger ignored her husband's rant and continued cleaning the terrace: "What a lovely child, no wonder our daughter loves him."
Mr. Granger's face darkened: "He better pray I don't see him, or I'll break his legs!"
After saying that, he waited a while, but received no response from his wife.
He turned around and found his wife had stopped what she was doing, looking downstairs with a surprised expression.
"What's wrong?"
Mrs. Granger turned around blankly: "...The person whose leg you wanted to break is down there..."
"Today is not April Fool's Day, darling."
Mr. Granger smiled, walked to the edge of the terrace, and peered over his shoulder.
Below, a red-haired jerk was smiling and waving at them.
As a father.
If your daughter suddenly tells you one day that she has someone she likes, and that guy even shows up in front of you, what would you do?
This is a problem that every father has to face.
The only difference is that for Mr. Granger, this problem came a little too early... at least 10 years ahead of schedule!
The atmosphere at the Granger house is rather strange right now.
Mr. Granger sat on the sofa, staring intently at Vaughn, who was sitting opposite him with a smile on his face.
Mrs. Granger busied herself bringing snacks and drinks before sitting down next to her husband.
Compared to her husband's stiff expression and attitude, Mrs. Granger was much better. She glanced out the window at the luxury car parked on the side of the road outside, the one Vaughn had driven when he arrived, and couldn't help but greet him, "Weasley, I heard from Hermione that your family is a wizarding family. Do you have businesses in Muggle society?"
"No, madam, that car outside isn't mine; it's a limousine arranged by the Muggle Hotel."
Vaughn's smile was sweet and innocent.
This undoubtedly greatly increased Mrs. Granger's favor towards him, and made Mr. Granger dislike him even more.
He couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Only luxury hotels can afford to send limousines. Some people are so young, yet they're already wasting their parents' money... Ugh!"
Mrs. Granger gave him a subtle yet ruthless elbow, her smile slightly awkward.
To their surprise, Vaughn, dressed like a rich kid, wasn't angry. "Sorry, I'm not very familiar with Muggle society. To avoid getting lost and attracting attention with my clothes, staying in a luxury hotel is the best solution I can think of."
"Perhaps Hermione forgot to tell you, I am an apothecary with some success in the magical world. Sometimes I will release a batch of potions and request payment in Muggle currency. Some wizards with large sums of Muggle currency really like this method of transaction."
"The money spent on staying in a luxury hotel can be easily earned back next time by opening a few more potions!"
The Grangers: "..."
It's so sour, it tastes like a lemon!
Mr. Granger's cheek muscles twitched, and in a daze, he seemed to see the red-haired boy opposite him with a face that screamed "I'm rich!"
Those despicable nouveau riche!
However, before he could utter a sarcastic remark, Mrs. Granger suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, I remember now."
As she spoke, she hurried upstairs, quickly returned with the newspaper she had found earlier, glanced through it casually, and excitedly said to her husband, "Look, the newspaper says that Vaughn invented something called Wolfsbane Potion, which has caused a great sensation... That's a magic potion, right?"
She asked that last question, looking at Vaughn with curiosity.
Vaughn nodded: "Yes, madam, it has great political significance. The reason I was able to leave the school this time is because the Wizarding world's legislative body, Wizengamo, held a plenary meeting regarding the Wolfsbane Potion and my proposal. As the proposer and a member of Wizengamo, I also had to attend the meeting."
As he spoke, Vaughn explained to the two what Wizengamo was and the Werewolf Affairs Committee.
Mrs. Granger covered her mouth in surprise: "My God, so you're a councilor of the wizarding world?"
Even Mr. Granger was startled and quickly picked up the newspaper; he had been so focused on the photos that he hadn't read the contents at all.
Only after reading the reports did he realize that Vaughn hadn't exaggerated at all; just look at what those reports were saying!
A glimmer of hope for the magical world, a tearing apart of the Ministry of Magic, and a struggle for supreme power!
In Mr. Granger's eyes, the Ministry of Magic = the government, the Minister of Magic = the Prime Minister, and the boy in front of him, whom he had just been thinking was a nouveau riche, was actually the Prime Minister's political enemy.
Mr. Granger suddenly wondered if he was under some kind of spell.
Compared to his disbelief, Mrs. Granger accepted it quickly. After all, she had slept with her daughter every night during Christmas to make up for her daughter leaving home at such a young age.
Hermione told her a lot about Vaughn.
Genius, genius, and more genius...
According to Hermione, there seemed to be no problem that could stump this boy who was a year younger than her.
Mrs. Granger knew her daughter well and knew that she was actually very competitive. She had never seen her admire someone of similar age so much before.
Mrs. Granger's attitude became increasingly enthusiastic, and Mr. Granger's stern face became less serious.
Vaughn didn't mind the change in their attitudes.
Or rather, he initiates conversations about himself in order to showcase his strengths.
The Grangers are adults, and adults are materialistic and realistic. It's not that they are inherently like that, but rather that the harsh realities of society have molded them into that way.
Vaughn was certain that if he were just an ordinary little wizard boy, his relationship with Hermione would never have received the Grangers' support—both out of concern for their age and as parents, they hoped their child would make friends with better people and have a better life in the future.
They might not strongly oppose it, at most because of Hermione's personal wishes and educational philosophy.
Vaughn dislikes playing dumb to take advantage of others, and he dislikes the kind of thing that happens in some novels, where the conflict accumulates and intensifies before trying to resolve it in order to create a show-off effect... That really goes against the logic of a normal person!
So, after exchanging a few pleasantries with Mrs. Granger and Mr. Granger, who was finally willing to strike up a conversation,
When asked about the purpose of his visit, Vaughn pulled Hermione's letter from his satchel and then took out two carefully wrapped boxes:
"Sir, Madam, this is my first visit, so I have prepared some small gifts. I hope you will not find them offensive."
"this..."
Before they could refuse, Vaughn had already opened the gift box containing ten bottles of potions. He pushed it in front of Lady Granger and said with a smile, "Madam, these are potions I developed myself, the 'Vaughn Beauty' series. They contain a variety of beauty and care effects, with immediate results. Instructions for use are included!"
The other gift box contained a pair of exquisitely designed head-mounted goggles.
"Sir, this is an eyepiece I modified last year for research purposes. It can provide a 360° panoramic view and X-ray vision. Hermione told me you're a dentist, so I believe it will be a great help to you... By the way, the X-ray vision is only for close-up viewing. Be careful not to stare at people!"
Mr. Granger, who had just picked up the eyepiece, blushed upon hearing this.
Lady Granger, who was curiously examining the beauty potion, looked at Vaughn in astonishment, "X-ray vision? This..."
Vaughn smiled and gestured, "Sir, you can give it a try."
Mr. Granger awkwardly yet impatiently put on the goggles and looked at his wife—the X-ray vision always sparked the imagination.
But the next moment, he screamed and hurriedly took off his goggles, his eyes bloodshot!
Vaughn explained with a smile, "Sir, in the realm of magic, we believe that everything has an aura, especially life. The aura of every healthy life is like the sun… Therefore, it is only suitable for examining teeth!"
The eyepiece is not an alchemical item; it is simply a product of a Muggle product that has been enchanted.
With use, the spell's power diminishes, and it eventually loses its effectiveness.
However, apart from being momentarily dazzled by what he called a flash of inspiration, Mr. Granger was quite pleased with the gift.
This improved his mood considerably, so much so that when he read his daughter's letter, in which she expressed her wish for her parents to visit the Weasleys during the summer vacation, he did not object.
Or rather, Mr. Granger, who is now gradually becoming obsessed with magic, is actually looking forward to experiencing the real life of a wizard.
Of course, he would be even happier if the experience didn't come at the cost of his daughter's happiness.
Having achieved his goal for the day, Vaughn politely declined Mrs. Granger's invitation to have lunch with him.
After receiving a reply from the couple, he took his leave.
Watching the luxury car drive away, Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes at her husband and complained, "Vaughn is still a child. He has a good personality and is polite. I think he's quite nice, but you have to be so grumpy!"
"Hmph, don't forget, they're only in middle school!"
"Isn't it normal to date in high school? Besides, when you're glaring at someone, can you at least put down the gift they gave you?"
"...I don't care!"
Mr. Granger gripped the magic goggles tightly in his hand and said forcefully.
But this tough stance quickly crumbled when Lady Granger tried the "Vorn Beauty" potion.
Mr. Granger, who was playing with the eyepiece in the living room, heard his wife scream and rushed to the bathroom. He looked at his wife in the mirror and opened his mouth in surprise.
Mrs. Granger, who was originally middle-aged and whose skin had become rough and loose due to pigmentation, suddenly looked 10 years younger in the mirror.
Her face, now fair and smooth again, was just like the first time he saw her many years ago!
The usually tough Mr. Granger felt weak all over and his heart was pounding like a deer.
For the first time, I felt that Weasley was truly a genius...
Vaughn, whom Mr. Granger considered a "genius," did not stay at the hotel after returning and went directly back to Hogwarts through the Ministry of Magic's fireplace quarters.
The vote in Wisengam will take a few more days, and now that the last thing is done, he naturally won't stay any longer.
The professors at the school already had some complaints.
When Vaughn emerged from Professor McGonagall's fireplace, he saw the serious-looking woman with her lips tightly pressed together: "Mr. Weasley, when are you planning to return to the classroom?"
Vaughn was a little embarrassed; he had indeed been skipping class for far too long, which was somewhat unreasonable.
"Today, Professor."
"very good."
Professor McGonagall's expression softened somewhat, and she then asked with concern, "I read in the newspaper that things are progressing quite well, right?"
"Yes, Professor, now we are just waiting for Wizengamo to make a decision, so I will stay at school and focus on my studies until the vote is in."
Hearing this, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips again—she understood the subtext: once the results were in, Vaughn would have to go to the Ministry of Magic again!
Vaughn quickly made his escape to avoid being lectured by Professor McGonagall, who was in a bad mood.
He went back to his dorm first; the fruit tea was still with Hermione.
The dormitory had been unoccupied for a while, and some dust had accumulated. It took Warn several "clean-up" cleaning sessions to get it clean.
Then he took out his notebook from his small shoulder bag, checked the course, and planned out the time ahead.
There are some courses that, even for someone of his level, would be inconvenient to skip.
For example, classes on metamorphosis, herbalism, astronomy, and so on.
The Transfiguration class mainly consists of the teaching content of Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Club. Currently, Vaughn's Transfiguration skill level is at the stage of transforming inanimate objects into living things.
The next step is to delve deeper into living metamorphosis and cross-species transformation.
Herbalism and astronomy classes mainly require hands-on practice. If you miss a class, you can't just read the book and you have to find professors for extra help.
We need to catch up on everything we missed during this time, including Quidditch.
He missed the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff match last month, and he absolutely cannot miss the Ravenclaw match next month.
Ravenclaw is still quite strong.
He was also counting on completing the main quest of "winning the Academy Cup"!
"Regarding magic practice, household spells should be included in the plan. Let me see... Hmm, some spells that have reached LV3 and whose progress has begun to slow down can be postponed for the time being. Household spells don't need to be mastered too much, just learn them."
"Then comes the study and experimentation with memory magic. The personality construct is not yet perfect and needs further research, but there's no need to rush that. I already have sufficient knowledge and understanding of memory. The next step is to observe the effects of dark magic; there's no time to rush it..."
"Finally, there's the further development of the wolfsbane potion, and the improvement of the magic extraction method..."
Vonn scribbled and drew in his notebook until it got dark, finally managing to put together a detailed schedule.
He enjoys a structured life and hates surprises!
But accidents always happen unexpectedly...
As Vaughn finished making his schedule and prepared to go to the restaurant to find something to eat and deliver his reply to Hermione, he saw an annoying old man with a white beard in the hallway outside.
"...Tsk, what bad luck!"
Vaughn turned and went back to his dormitory, while Dumbledore followed him in with a smile.
"Dear Vaughn, a centenarian has been waiting for you for at least two hours. Shouldn't you be more considerate of his hardship and treat him with more gentleness?"
Vaughn rolled his eyes and said, "Serves you right for waiting so long. So, what is it now?"
Dumbledore's smile faded, and he remained silent for a moment before sighing, "The plan needs to start earlier. You should focus on training Harry recently and get him to learn Occlumency as soon as possible, so that Tom won't notice anything amiss when he comes into contact with him."
Vaughn is not Snape.
Snape had no idea what Dumbledore was doing, but Vaughn did. He said knowingly, "You found the place where Quirrell met Voldemort?"
"Yes, in Albania, in a primeval jungle... Tom lived there for a long time, humbly and tenaciously continuing his filthy soul."
As he spoke, a look of confusion appeared in Dumbledore's bright eyes: "What I can't understand is why he went to Albania? It is indeed far from England, but it is not a suitable place to start over. For so many years, he could only live off small animals."
Vaughn certainly knew the reason, but he couldn't say it.
This intelligence is inexplicable; it involves secrets from long ago.
Faced with the bewildered Lao Deng, he could only offer a guessing suggestion: "Perhaps it's because that place is more meaningful to him?"
"oh?"
Dumbledore blinked and asked with interest, "Do you think that place has anything to do with his past experiences?"
Vaughn shrugged and said, "Just a guess. In everyone's life, there are always some special experiences that even a madman can't forget."