Most people have their own weaknesses.
Dumbledore's was family.
Grindelwald's was Dumbledore.
Voldemort's was death.
Truth be told, Wayne was no exception – he had several weaknesses himself. Uncle Humphrey, Hermione and the other girls, even close friends, could influence him.
The difference was that his strength allowed him to protect these vulnerabilities.
Crouch, too, had his weakness: his deceased wife.
Logically, someone who could personally send his son to Azkaban with a life sentence should be an emotionally detached, ruthless character.
And indeed, Crouch possessed Ravenclaw's intellect and Slytherin's ambition.
Yet his wife remained the sole soft spot in his heart.
That's why he risked everything to fulfil her dying wish – retrieving Barty Jr., keeping him imprisoned at home under the Imperius Curse.
Barty Jr.'s life meant nothing. But having been bought with his wife's life, it gained singular significance. Wayne had accurately pinpointed the user's pain point, completely shattering Crouch's mental defences.
"I agree..." Crouch said coldly. "As long as you hand over Voldemort's Horcrux and let me destroy it, I'll do whatever you ask."
"Don't make it sound so grim," Wayne frowned. "As if I'm forcing you to commit a crime."
"Just using your connections to sway a few Ministry of Magic officials—does it really warrant such dramatics?"
Crouch murmured, "In ancient times, this would be called rebellion..."
"Wrong. Just a Minister for Magic at most," Wayne sneered. "At worst, it's course correction."
Crouch said nothing more, only instructing Wayne to release him and Winky.
"One moment."
Wayne placed his palm atop Crouch's head. Starlight gathered, seeping into his brow.
"Done."
The ropes untied themselves, and the gravitational force vanished. Winky shrank timidly behind Crouch.
"What did you do?" Crouch frowned, sensing nothing amiss.
"Just a small precaution." Wayne opened his palm, revealing a layer of white light. Instantly, Crouch felt dizzy.
"If you betray me, all it takes is a single thought for me to shatter your skull."
"I'm not entirely sure of the effective range, but we could test it."
"Completely unnecessary," Mr. Crouch said sternly, pressing Wayne's hand down. "The Crouch Family honours its word."
"Very well." Wayne regretfully dispersed the light.
Truthfully, he had been bluffing.
Such a method was beyond his current capabilities. He had merely placed a Zombie Ward on Crouch, allowing him to track the man's location if needed.
As for the dizziness?
Just a minor variant of the Dread Charm—anyone hit by it would faint.
But as long as Crouch believed it, that was enough.
"Let's go meet Mr. Barty Crouch Jr.," Wayne declared, suddenly taking charge. "I'm quite interested in this so-called 'most loyal Death Eater'."
Winky hesitated, glancing at her master.
"Lead the way," Crouch instructed.
The three arrived before a brick wall. Winky tapped it twice, and the bricks parted like those in the Leaky Cauldron's back courtyard, revealing a dim passageway.
Beyond it lay a basement, surprisingly spacious—fully furnished like a proper residence.
Wayne's brow arched. Without waiting for Winky to guide them, he strode to the iron door at the far end and reached out.
Winky moved to warn him, but a sharp look from Crouch silenced her.
Zzzzt!
Sparks erupted as hidden mechanisms triggered, firing arrows at him.
Wayne grasped the handle as if oblivious. The arrows fell before reaching him, transforming into venomous snakes upon impact.
Crouch's eyelid twitched violently.
What sinister methods... what a bizarre young wizard.
Wasn't this Slytherin's style?
"Why stand there? Don't you want to see your son?" Wayne turned back, smiling.
Under the snakes' predatory gazes, Crouch and Winky felt their scalps prickle. The house-elf trembled, utterly lost. Taking a deep breath, Crouch tightened his grip on his wand and walked towards Wayne.
Fortunately, the venomous snakes merely stared at them coldly without taking any further action.
The three entered the room, entirely constructed of steel, which reminded Wayne of the place where he had once confined Nagini.
Inside, a man around thirty years old sat leisurely in a chair, unhurriedly eating fruit.
His hair was dishevelled, his appearance unkempt, and he wore only a simple nightgown, making it impossible to connect him with the once-famous prodigy of Hogwarts.
Back in the day, young Barty Crouch had earned twelve OWLs, just like Percy the year before, and his NEWT results were impressive enough to qualify him as an Auror.
Even after all these wasted years, his abilities remained formidable.
The mere fact that he and Wormtail had managed to subdue Moody single-handedly was proof enough of his talent.
"What, finally couldn't resist bringing your bastard back?"
Wayne remained silent, but young Barty was the first to speak, his voice hoarse and dripping with scorn.
Crouch frowned, about to say something, but the young man raised a hand to stop him.
Bang!
Young Barty was flung backwards without warning, slamming into the wall before sliding slowly to the floor.
The intense impact forced a pained groan from him, followed by a surge of sheer fury.
He wanted to lunge at Wayne, but the wall behind him suddenly parted, 'swallowing' him whole until only his head remained exposed.
Wayne stepped forward.
Slap!
A resounding blow struck young Barty's face.
"Let's see... you're thirty-one this year, aren't you?"
"Didn't your mother teach you to greet strangers politely instead of provoking them?"
"Oh, wait, my apologies—I forgot. You don't have a mother."
Huff... Huff...
One sentence, and both Crouches' breathing grew ragged with rage.
"Mr Lawrence..." Crouch Sr forced out through gritted teeth.
"My apologies." Wayne waved a hand without remorse. "Please forgive a Hufflepuff's honesty."
Instantly, both Crouches' opinions of Hufflepuff House soured several times over.
But this was just the beginning.
"No mother's bad enough, but couldn't you at least ask your bastard father Voldemort for advice?"
"How dare you!" Young Barty shrieked like a madman. "How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name! And insult him! I'll kill you—I swear I'll kill you!"
"You filthy, wretched insect!"
"Worthless Hufflepuff wizard, you're only fit to sniff my master's—"
Wayne picked at his ear disdainfully.
One might praise wizards for their refined manners or criticise their inability to defend their parents' honour through words alone.
This was their idea of cursing someone?
Meanwhile, Crouch Sr was equally livid—not because his son still harboured such devotion to Voldemort (he'd long abandoned hope for the boy), but because of Wayne's words.
Did calling Voldemort his son's 'bastard father' to his actual father's face seem appropriate?
Wayne had intended to ignore young Barty, but the man's escalating screams grated on his nerves.
With a sigh, Wayne released him from the wall, planting a foot on his chest as his eyes glowed a crimson red.
"Crucio!"
Instantly, curses turned to howls that raised goosebumps.
Young Barty writhed like a maggot, snot and tears streaming as his lower body...
Disgusted, Wayne lifted his foot and stepped back—but didn't stop the spell.
With SSS+-level Dark Magic talent, the Unforgivable Curses might as well have been crafted for him.
Crucio?
He could flay flesh from bone!
Seeing his son's agony, a flicker of pity crossed Crouch Sr's eyes—noticed immediately by Wayne.
"Mr Crouch, sometimes beating children solves nothing. Like now."
"He's beyond reason from pain, but once recovered, he'll remain Voldemort's loyal dog."
"Then why torment him?" Crouch demanded angrily.
"Because it's satisfying." Wayne sighed wistfully.
"Beating him won't fix his issues, but it fixes yours. Seeing him suffer—doesn't that feel good?"
Crouch fell silent again.
Now that Wayne mentioned it... There was some twisted logic there.
Five minutes later, young Barty's screams finally ceased, having seemingly passed out—though his body still twitched occasionally, reliving the pain.
"Right, let's go." Wayne glanced at him and strode out.
'Did you come down here just to torment my son without saying a word to him?'
But who could argue when Wayne was now the one calling the shots?
After witnessing the methods just displayed, the petty schemes in Crouch's mind had largely dissipated.
If this man could truly procure Voldemort's Horcrux...
What harm was there in helping him gain control of the Ministry of Magic?
"Take this. Tomorrow at work, you can have a chat with Madam Greengrass."
Wayne handed the documents to Crouch.
"Greengrass? You've actually connected with her?" Crouch asked in surprise.
Madam Greengrass was an exceptionally low-profile yet unignorable presence at the Ministry.
Wayne replied succinctly: "She's my mother-in-law."
"No wonder," Crouch muttered inwardly. He opened the file and, after skimming a few pages, his heart began to pound violently.
The boy meant business.
"Two more things," Wayne said softly.
"Go on." Closing the file, Crouch responded gravely, quickly adapting to his new role.
"First, have your house-elf sever the master-servant bond with Barty Crouch Jr."
Crouch frowned. Winky tensed, watching him anxiously.
"That's unnecessary."
"With my orders, Winky won't heed Barty Jr.'s temptations."
"Mr Crouch." Wayne suddenly smiled, sending chills down the spines of the other two present.
"I wasn't asking for your opinion."
"Understood."
"The second matter..." The young man tilted his head slightly. "I own two shops in Diagon Alley. Look after them for me. Also, see if you can persuade the Auror Office to purchase my protective equipment."
Crouch nodded. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try."
"Relax. I have faith in the Crouch family's influence at the Ministry." Wayne smiled.
The Crouch family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight with deep ties to the Ministry. Even in disgrace, their political resources and connections remained.
Otherwise, Wayne wouldn't have sought him out specifically.
Beyond having leverage, this very legacy was why Wayne had come calling today.
"That's all I needed to say." Having accomplished his objectives, Wayne stood, reverting to his gentle, courteous demeanour as he nodded politely.
"My apologies for taking so much of your time, Mr Crouch. I'll take my leave now."
"If you need to contact me, activate that mark. Or you could approach Madam Greengrass."
"Naturally, should there be tasks requiring your attention, I'll find you."
With that, he vanished soundlessly from the spot.
"Master..."
Only when certain Wayne had truly left did Winky finally relax, her pillowcase damp with sweat.
"Winky." Crouch regarded her sternly. "From this moment onward, Barty Crouch Jr. is no longer your master. This is my command."
Winky trembled but ultimately bowed in acquiescence.
"Master... must we truly obey... obey Mr Lawrence's orders?"
"For now, yes." Crouch gazed out the window, his thoughts in turmoil.
Perspective changes everything.
Having accepted his recruitment by Wayne Lawrence, Crouch found himself recognising the young man's many qualities.
Mysterious. Powerful. Ruthless.
From the moment he entered, Wayne hadn't touched his wand, performing wandless magic throughout.
A single strange spell dismantled the carefully planned ambush by him and Winky. Even Unforgivable Curses were merely a matter of blinking to him.
Having such a person as an enemy would undoubtedly be a nightmare.
But if he were an ally...
Crouch saw hope in his heart. He, too, might have a chance to take revenge against Voldemort...
...
As September 1st drew nearer,
Wayne also fulfilled his promise. Before the term began, he revisited Nurmengard to treat Grindelwald to a proper meal.
When it came to bribery... no, maintaining interpersonal relationships, he always kept his word.
Don't believe him? That gargoyle outside the Headmaster's Office and the Sorting Hat - he could keep old Dumbledore out with just one word. Would you believe that?
As he left, Grindelwald asked Wayne for some Gender-Swap Mints, saying that since he had nothing better to do, he might as well study these peculiar little things.
After some thought, Wayne agreed, leaving behind some potion ingredients too.
With Grindelwald's power, he could have escaped long ago if he'd wanted. Even without a wand, he remained a master of magic. Nurmengard couldn't hold him.
Rather than a prison jointly established by numerous Ministries of Magic, this was more his own choice.
Just as Hogwarts was to Dumbledore.
Both were self-imposed cages.
On the last day before term, Wayne brought Hermione and Cho to Diagon Alley to buy textbooks and supplies for the coming semester.
Hermione had wanted to come earlier, but the increasingly extensive collection in the Virtual Brain Machine had kept her enthralled, delaying their trip until now.
With the term approaching, Diagon Alley grew crowded with students, many accompanied by parents, filling the narrow lane with bustle.
Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts for next term's books. When Hermione and Cho requested copies of The Monster Book of Monsters, the shop assistant turned deathly pale.
The girls didn't understand why - until the assistant brought out the books. They stared in shock.
"You're certain these are books?" Hermione asked, aghast.
"Certain," the assistant said miserably. "Please take them away. Damn that Care of Magical Creatures professor - I'll be lodging a complaint!"
Carrying their purchases outside, Wayne found the two squabbling Monster Books annoying and promptly hit them with Stunning Spells, instantly quietening them.
The assistant witnessed this and nearly lost his composure.
Why hadn't he mentioned this perfect solution earlier?!
"Wayne!"
Hearing his name called, Wayne and the girls turned as one.
Mr Diggory approached eagerly with Cedric in tow. "What luck! We didn't see you in the village this year, but here you are."
"Mr Diggory," Wayne greeted politely.
"Hahaha!" The middle-aged man clapped Wayne's shoulder heartily. "How did you know Cedric was made Prefect?"
Wayne: "???"
Had he known?
Seeing Cedric's mortified face-palming, Wayne suddenly understood.
This guy... was basically that trophy fish anglers can't stop showing off, wasn't he?