Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

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: the Crouch family's ancestral home and a house he recently purchased in the Muggle community. Which one would you like to know about?"

"If you could tell me everything, that would be best."

"No problem, it's my pleasure to help 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 spacing out here?"

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 the receptionist's enthusiastic greeting could be heard from afar: "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, "Living in the same Muggle community as Chief Crouch? Hmm, those are Wizengamot robes. Perhaps he's visiting?"

After thinking for a while, something seemed to trigger him, and he suddenly jolted awake.

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 a smile, 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 sorcerers 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 to increase 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 cook 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'm Vaughn Weasley. I'm sorry to bother you, but may I have a word with you?"

"..."

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 the light exploded!

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, viciously 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 incantations.

Vaughn was well prepared. When the fire dragon bit down, his body, which had become light, was blown far away by the shockwave of the explosion, like a leaf, drifting aimlessly.

His crimson robe billowed in the violent shockwave, resembling a raging fire. Vaughn remained calm, and before his ethereal figure even landed, 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.

boom!

boom!

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.

Meanwhile, Crouch, who should have been inside, let out a hoarse shout from behind Vaughn:

"The soul leaves 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 not enough to leave him to sit 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 bombarded 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 houses nearby 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 battle fought in the standard way of 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 faintly reflecting the light, were now deep and unfathomable in the darkness. 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 wasn't particularly magnificent or fantastical; it was just a dim, warm sunlight, like 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 dappled 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 Klaus, 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 why 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 seeped into his soul."

"I've tried memory manipulation, but it's useless. The result is always the same. Because of his evil instincts, the modified memories are always 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 Crouch 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 the modification of 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 hazy, 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 yet, but if I wear a set of clothes and destroy them once corruption occurs, wouldn't that avoid this problem?"

"This is my 'Personality Manifestation Alpha 0.3'!"

(End of this chapter)