Crouch Residence, Basement.
The familiar sound of lashes rang out, but surprisingly, this time it wasn't accompanied by screams. Instead, there was intense writhing, along with strange moans and pleas.
"Kill me, please, just kill me!"
"No... ah! I... I'm itching to death!"
Little Barty Crouch squirmed on the ground like a maggot, his face flushed and veins bulging as he frantically beat himself, hoping the pain would distract from the unbearable itch.
His entire body felt as though countless insects were crawling beneath his skin—an agony so intense he wished for immediate death.
Times were progressing, and Wayne wasn't one to be left behind.
While the Whip of Mercy's effects were already impressive, after Snape's two-and-a-half-week trial period, he had pointed out some shortcomings.
Only having one effect was rather monotonous.
Moreover, the screams of those tortured by the Cruciatus Curse were unpleasant—pleasing in the short term but grating over time.
Truly, a former Death Eater, even torture required attention to detail. Wayne felt he'd learned much.
After retrieving the whip yesterday, he'd spent the night making a small upgrade.
Itchiness was a sensation even harder to endure than pain. While pain could be numbed or adapted to, itchiness wasn't classified as pain—the body had no immunity mechanism against it. In other words, the torment would remain constant, never fading.
Each lash didn't hurt Little Barty—it just made him itch, everywhere, inside and out.
Given the choice, he'd have preferred the Cruciatus Curse to this torment.
Sweat pooled on the floor like a stream. Seeing Little Barty try to knock himself unconscious against the wall, Wayne flicked the whip, binding him tightly.
"What did I ever do to you? Just give me a quick death, kill me now!"
"Are you really going to just stand there and watch him torture your son?"
"Aren't you my father anymore?"
Barty Jr.'s voice was hoarse, his gaze filled with terror as he looked at Wayne. Yet in the end, he roared at Mr. Crouch, who had remained expressionless throughout.
Seeing his son tortured to the brink of agony, Crouch showed no anger. Instead, a mocking smile flickered across his stern face:
"How rare... I never thought I'd hear you call me 'father' again after more than a decade."
Wayne felt quite gratified by this heartwarming display of fatherly affection.
He put away the whip, a faint red glint flashing in his eyes as Barty Jr.'s gaze momentarily turned vacant.
Wayne took out the Prophecy Orb and tossed it to Barty Jr.
"Break it."
Upon hearing the command, Barty Jr. immediately hurled the orb to the ground without hesitation. The sphere shattered into pieces, its mist dispersing into the air.
"What do you see? What do you hear?" Wayne asked.
Barty Jr. shook his head blankly. "Just a swirl of mist. Nothing else."
Wayne frowned, suddenly turning to Crouch. "Do you know anything about the Department of Mysteries? Could it be that he can't see the vision inside because he's under the Imperius Curse?"
"The Unspeakables are secretive. I've had no dealings with them," Crouch replied, shaking his head. "But your theory doesn't hold. I've read about similar cases in books."
"If Barty Jr. can't see it, it simply means the prophecy has no connection to him."
"Not him?" Wayne frowned. With a wave of his hand, he repaired the Prophecy Orb with the Mending Charm, though the mist inside had completely vanished.
After releasing Barty Jr. from his control, Wayne pointed his wand at the younger man's forehead. With a series of precise movements, he modified and erased all memories of his own presence, making Crouch frown deeply.
"Is such caution really necessary? He can't escape anyway."
"Better safe than sorry," Wayne replied without looking up. "It's a simple precaution worth taking to avoid future complications."
Crouch had nothing to say to that.
The fact that someone so powerful remained so cautious actually put him more at ease.
After thoroughly erasing all traces of their presence, the two left the dungeon and returned to the drawing room.
No sooner had they sat down than Crouch asked curiously, "That Prophecy Orb just now – did you take it from the Department of Mysteries?"
"I've never even been to the Ministry of Magic, let alone the Department of Mysteries."
Wayne picked up his teacup and shook his head slightly. "This was a recent prophecy about Voldemort made by Trelawney. I suspected it might involve Barty Crouch Jr, but apparently not."
At the mention of Voldemort, Crouch's expression immediately turned grave.
"Could you tell me about it?"
Now that they were allies, Wayne saw no reason to withhold information. He not only revealed the prophecy's contents but also shared his suspicions with Crouch.
"Peter Pettigrew?" Crouch's face flickered with disbelief. "But he's been dead for over a decade. How could he be connected to Voldemort?"
Now it was Wayne's turn to be surprised.
"You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
With some reluctance, Wayne explained the whole story about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Crouch listened in growing astonishment.
"So the Potters secretly changed their Secret Keeper... but why didn't Black reveal this at the time?"
Wayne reminded him, "You've forgotten – he was sent straight to Azkaban without a proper trial."
"Now I understand why Fudge wants to keep this quiet," Crouch realised. "He probably wants to catch me off guard."
It had been Crouch himself, as then Head of Magical Law Enforcement, who'd overseen the sentencing of Death Eaters.
No doubt Fudge hoped to use the wrongful conviction of Sirius Black to deal Crouch a heavy blow – not just removing him as head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but ideally forcing him out of the Ministry entirely.
As this realisation dawned, Crouch's expression darkened.
Having recently organised two major international events, he and his department had been riding high. This very success might have reignited Fudge's jealousy and wariness.
Yet Crouch couldn't immediately think of a good solution.
After all, these were verifiable facts – there had indeed been serious procedural flaws in Black's case.
Finally, Wayne offered a suggestion.
"When the time comes, just shift all blame onto the previous Minister. I'll have the press back you up."
The young man took a sip of tea before continuing leisurely.
"Someone has to take the fall. Why should it be you?"
...
Declining Crouch's dinner invitation, Wayne returned home after advising him to prepare plenty of 'mud to sling' in the coming days.
Knowing Wayne had the day off, Nagini had returned early to prepare an elaborate dinner.
"You've grown taller again," the serpent-woman observed, her eyes shining.
At fourteen, Wayne had largely shed his childish features, his facial contours becoming more defined and masculine.
Less cute, but considerably more handsome.
"You've put on a bit of weight, too," Wayne teased in return.
Nagini immediately panicked, frantically patting herself down. "Really? Has my waist gotten much thicker?"
"You're only plump compared to how thin you used to be."
Wayne moved Nagini's hands aside and placed his own on her slender waist.
"Before, you were malnourished and too thin. Now you're just right."
"I don't believe you. You're definitely just trying to comfort me."
No woman could remain indifferent to the word 'plump', and Nagini was no exception. "You can eat this dinner by yourself. I'll just watch."
"You need energy to lose weight. One more meal won't hurt. Sit down before the food gets cold."
After much coaxing, Wayne finally managed to calm Nagini enough to join him for the welcome dinner.
After the meal, Nagini sat on the sofa while Wayne comfortably rested his head on her lap.
"Let's go watch the World Cup finals together this year. The wizarding world rarely gets this lively."
Nagini hesitated. "But the shop..."
"I have a task for you."
The young man rolled onto his back, looking up at her seriously. "The World Cup is in mid-August. Before then, you need to find a suitable successor to manage the shop for you."
"That place isn't your shackles—it's just somewhere for you to relax."
"Alright." Seeing how earnest he was, Nagini obediently nodded before suddenly whispering, "You must be tired after a day on the train. Let me give you a scrub."
Britain didn't have a scrubbing culture—only bathing habits—but Nagini, being from the Malay region, knew about such practices.
Delighted by this unexpected perk, Wayne readily agreed.
But before heading to wash, he needed to release the magical creatures from his suitcase.
Three Unicorns, one Iron-eating Beast, a Niffler pulled from his pocket, a Golden Snidget, and two Phoenixes.
Hmm?
Wayne stared in surprise at Fawkes before him.
"Why are you still here with me?"
"Chirp chirp~!"
...
Hogwarts.
With the young wizards gone for holidays, the entire school had quietened down.
Not only that, most professors had also left, leaving only the house-elves, caretaker Filch, Dumbledore and Snape behind.
Oh, and the 'prisoner' they were guarding.
Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore and Sirius had just finished dinner and were conversing.
"Professor, I don't understand why you trust Snape enough to make him Head of Slytherin House."
"He was a Death Eater—worshipped the Dark Lord even before graduating."
This question had been eating at Sirius for a long time. After getting beaten up by Snape again today, he finally couldn't hold back any longer.
Facing his doubts, Dumbledore simply smiled.
"Sirius, one shouldn't always view people through fixed lenses, even those you once knew very well."
"We all had our youth, and in moments of confusion, took wrong paths. Not just Severus—even I have made many mistakes in my time."
Here, the old man's eyes dimmed slightly before quickly brightening again.
"Severus is completely different from who he used to be."
"I don't see it at all," Sirius muttered. "Still as detestable as ever, and with terrible personal hygiene to boot."
Back in their school days, he'd had James to help him bully Snape without consequence.
But now James was gone, Remus had left too, and without his wand, he stood no chance against Snape.
"You'll come to see it in time," Dumbledore said softly. "I trust him just as I trust you and Hagrid. I could entrust my back to any of you without hesitation."
Perhaps... even more so.
Dumbledore added silently in his heart.
This wasn't to doubt Hagrid or Sirius's loyalty, but rather due to their inherent character flaws.
As a Gryffindor himself, he understood Gryffindor virtues and shortcomings better than anyone.
Some matters could be entrusted to Snape, but not others; he trusted them equally - it would only cause them unnecessary distress and confusion.
Seeing Dumbledore had put it so plainly, Sirius had no choice but to drop the matter.
He made another request instead.
"Professor, I'd like to visit the Black family home. There's still a house-elf there, and I'm worried he might give Remus trouble."
"If you don't trust me to go alone, you could come with me."
"Certainly," Dumbledore agreed readily. "Fawkes can—"
Mid-sentence, his smile froze.
"Professor? What's wrong?" Sirius asked curiously.
Dumbledore gazed at the empty perch and sighed deeply.
"My bird... has been taken by Mr Lawrence."
...
The next morning, as sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, Nagini slowly opened her eyes.
Seeing the boy still fast asleep on her chest, a smile curved her lips.
Carefully transferring Wayne to the equally soft pillow, Nagini slipped out of the room without a sound.
Wayne had asked her to find a suitable shop manager within a month. After careful consideration last night, Nagini decided neither current employee was quite right - they'd need to recruit anew.
She planned to place an advertisement in the Daily Prophet, hoping to find the perfect candidate.
The primary requirement? They must be a Hufflepuff graduate.
Under Wayne's influence, the principle of favouring one's own had taken root in Nagini's mind.
As long as their character was sound, weaker abilities could be overlooked.
...
By noon, when Hermione had already arrived, Wayne finally rose to wash up and eat breakfast.
The young witch eyed the breakfasting boy with disapproval.
"Gardevoir just told me... You slept with Nagini last night?"
Not just Hermione - Cho and Astoria also knew of Nagini's existence.
Wayne had taken care to paint Nagini's backstory as tragically as possible, laying all blame at his dear senior's feet.
He was merely a kind-hearted Hufflepuff helping others in need.
And Nagini, having seen The Legend of the White Snake, had chosen to stay out of gratitude.
"We talked too late last night and I fell asleep," Wayne brushed it off. Seeing Hermione still displeased, he dropped his bombshell.
"How about I take you to meet Nicolas Flamel after breakfast?"
"Really?"
As predicted, the jealous young witch's attention was instantly diverted.
"You're going to see Nicolas Flamel?"
"Well, there are some things I need to discuss with him. I'll be back in the evening. If you don't want to come, that's fine," Wayne said deliberately.
"Who said I don't want to go?" Hermione grabbed Wayne's arm in a fluster. "Of course I want to meet Mr Flamel."
After Christmas, when she'd heard that Cho had actually spent the holidays at Nicolas Flamel's house with Wayne, she'd been green with envy. Had she known such an opportunity existed, she'd have skipped skiing altogether.
"Sigh..." Wayne put down his cutlery and leaned back, saying weakly, "Having to feed myself is so exhausting."
Hermione immediately understood what he meant. She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but obediently cut up the eggs and sausages on her plate, feeding the pieces to the boy bit by bit.
"Can we go now?"
Putting down the empty plate, Hermione asked again.
"Let's go." Wayne stood up, taking Hermione's hand while snapping his fingers with the other.
A golden-red bird flew out from the back garden.
"Fawkes?" The girl stared at it in surprise.
"Chirp chirp~!" Fawkes tilted his head as if greeting the girl.
Hermione turned to Wayne. "Why is Fawkes here with you?"
"A while ago, Dumbledore upset Fawkes, so he came to play with Ho-Oh. I forgot about it and accidentally brought him back yesterday."
"Alright, we've been using Ho-Oh for travel too often. Let's try Fawkes today."
"Might as well see how someone else's bird performs~"