"Ah!"
"Ah!"
"I'll kill you, ahhh!"
Piercing screams echoed through the iron-walled basement.
Barty Crouch Sr. stood expressionless to the side, watching his son being whipped, his thoughts unreadable.
Wayne wielded a pitch-black whip, a pleased smile on his face as he lashed it across Barty Crouch Jr.'s body.
"This is my new invention. It leaves no scars, but each strike is equivalent to a Cruciatus curse. What do you think?"
"Just kill me! Otherwise, I... I'll definitely kill you!"
Between screams, Junior gritted out venomous curses, unleashing a stream of curses.
"Still got energy to curse?" Wayne frowned, dissatisfied. "Seems the design was too conservative. Should've increased the intensity."
As he spoke, his pupils flashed with an eerie green light, and little Barty's curses abruptly ceased, replaced by a blood-curdling howl.
"Was this how you and Bellatrix tortured the Longbottoms back then?"
Wayne suddenly exerted force, and Barty's right hand twisted unnaturally, fracturing outright.
That's right—he'd said the whip wouldn't leave any marks.
But he never said anything about broken bones.
After undergoing starlight tempering, Wayne's strength had reached terrifying levels and was still increasing. If Voldemort tried close combat with him, Wayne could twist his head off with one slap.
The wizarding world sometimes had to abide by physical laws, too.
"You knew the Longbottoms?"
Crouch's brow slowly furrowed, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes.
Yet he couldn't help speaking up, interrupting Wayne's spellcasting and whipping.
If this continued, Barty Jr. would either be flogged to death or driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse.
Strictly speaking, as then-head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Longbottoms had been his subordinates. Their torture at their own son's hands had weighed on his conscience.
"No."
Wayne exhaled lightly, putting the whip away.
"I'd just heard about what happened. Thought your son was a right piece of work—needed to vent, that's all."
Crouch remained silent.
Had it not been for his wife's pleas, he'd have let Barty Jr. rot in Azkaban.
But the world wasn't made of 'what ifs'. He and his wife only had this one son.
"Let's go."
Having worked out his frustrations, Wayne felt refreshed. He gestured to Crouch.
"You go ahead for breakfast." Crouch looked at Barty Jr. "I'll tend to him first."
"He won't die."
Wayne spoke flatly before exiting the cellar. After two seconds' hesitation, Crouch followed.
Winky had prepared a lavish spread—even the eggs came in half a dozen preparations, terrified the fearsome youth might find fault.
Between bites, Wayne remarked:
"Dumbledore's agreed. You can proceed with preparations."
Crouch straightened. "Understood. There'll be no mistakes."
"The tournament events need revising." Wayne tapped his fork. "The traditional three tasks won't provide enough energy. Add more."
"Consider it done," Crouch noted each instruction.
"Progress on other fronts?" Wayne pushed aside an oversweet dessert. "Next time, go easier on the sugar."
Winky nearly burst into tears at the casual critique, though she quickly produced a pot of tea.
"Exceedingly well," Crouch answered methodically. "Three office heads and two department chiefs are on board, plus numerous key staff."
"Though given the Auror Office's... sensitivities, I've held off there." He added, "Scrimgeour's notoriously perceptive."
"Don't fret over him."
Wayne sipped his tea. "That Auror-in-Chief won't keep his seat long. Just gather compromising material—Madame Greengrass will handle the rest."
Crouch nodded silently.
Having witnessed Wayne's methods, he didn't doubt the claim.
And if all else failed... There was always physical persuasion.
Wayne instructed Crouch to compile their current progress into a report, which he would take back to the lobbying group for any necessary adjustments. Then, he produced the distilled Elixir of Life from the previous day.
The original third of a bottle had been further divided, leaving only a thin layer at the base.
"What's this?" Crouch asked, puzzled.
Wayne tossed the crystal vial to him. "Consider it your wages. If you don't want it, you can give it to someone else."
"This vial of Elixir of Life represents ten years of lifespan."
Crouch's hand trembled slightly, his eyes filled with astonishment.
"You're not lying to me?"
"Why not try it and see?"
Hesitating for two seconds, Crouch uncorked the vial and downed it in one gulp.
Soon, his body underwent a startling transformation.
His greying temples turned golden, and the wrinkles on his face diminished by more than half.
Crouch felt his body restored to a peak condition—not quite his absolute prime, but enough to thrill him.
Wayne teased, "Congratulations. Now you can father a son."
Old Barty remained somewhat incredulous. "Something so precious, and you just... gave it to me?"
His age wasn't particularly advanced by wizarding standards, and he still had many years ahead—but who wouldn't want a youthful, healthy body?
"Had to give you some incentive, didn't I?"
Wayne said dismissively, "Mr Crouch, you're an outstanding partner. Only by restoring your former ambition and vigour can you serve me better."
"I understand," Crouch nodded solemnly.
Having a generous and powerful employer was undoubtedly a boon for him.
With his body rejuvenated by a decade, Crouch's ambition seemed reignited:
"Could I have more Elixir of Life? Don't misunderstand—not for myself, but to offer to those in need."
"For example..." Crouch smiled meaningfully. "The Wizengamot has quite a few members who are... long in the tooth."
"Already prepared for you." With a flick of his hand, Wayne produced thumb-sized vials on the table.
"Each contains one year's worth. Decide who gets them—no need to consult me."
"If you run out, just ask for more."
Crouch carefully stowed them away. "Excellent. With these, getting you into the Wizengamot now would be child's play."
Wayne shook his head. "No interest in that. Maybe if old Dumbledore retires someday, I'll consider becoming Chief Warlock."
Crouch's mouth twitched.
Chief Warlock... Now that's ambition.
"Enough business—let's talk personal matters." Wayne rubbed his hands together.
"Do you know an employee in your department named Kevin Chang?"
Crouch lowered his head in thought. He'd never bothered memorising his subordinates' names, considering them unimportant.
But since Wayne asked... he'd have to try.
After a long pause, Crouch said, "There is someone by that name. A clerk in the International Magical Law Office. He's—"
"My future father-in-law." Wayne didn't shy away, unilaterally defining their relationship.
"You... have quite the extended family."
It took Crouch a moment to muster that response.
"I understand what you mean. His position will soon see some changes."
Crouch initially thought Wayne wanted him to help promote Mr Chang's position, but to his surprise, Wayne shook his head.
"Of course, we should look after him, but we can't just promote him without reason."
"I have a suggestion—how about having him work the Christmas shift? That would count as merit, and no one could complain."
Crouch's expression gradually turned peculiar. "Are you sure he's your father-in-law and not your sworn enemy?"
How utterly ruthless.
Not even letting the man spend Christmas with his family, and specifically naming him for the shift.
Wayne sighed, rubbing his palm. "He is indeed my father-in-law. It's just that he's never forgiven me for whisking his daughter away two years ago."
"See, I want Cho to accompany me to spend Christmas with an elder, so he'll just have to endure it."
Crouch gave the young man a complicated look.
Being this guy's father-in-law... Mr Chang was truly cursed for eight lifetimes.
...
Two days later, evening.
Wayne arrived punctually at Cho's home for his visit.
The door was opened by Cho's mother, Madam Chang, who greeted Wayne with a warm smile:
"Come in, dear. Auntie's just preparing dinner—it'll be ready soon. Cho mentioned you enjoy Eastern cuisine, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"Of course. With Auntie's skills, I'm not picky at all."
Wayne's well-behaved reply made Madam Chang's smile grow even more affectionate.
Following her inside, a faint scoff came from the living room. Cho stifled a laugh as she came forward.
"You actually dared to come?"
Wayne blinked. "Wasn't it agreed? As long as Uncle agrees, you have to come with me."
Cho shot him a look that said, "Good luck surviving this," and pulled the young man to sit beside her in the living room.
"Good evening, Uncle."
"Hmph." Mr Chang responded coldly. Unfazed, Wayne sat close to Cho, their bodies pressed together as they whispered to each other.
Watching his daughter's affectionate behaviour with Wayne, Mr Chang's veins bulged on his hands, his teeth nearly grinding to dust.
Wayne had visited before, but never with such audacity.
Did he really think this old father was invisible?
The atmosphere in the living room grew increasingly bizarre—on one side, Mr Chang sat in solitary gloom, while on the other, the young couple basked in tender intimacy.
Cho wasn't oblivious to her father's displeasure. She simply wanted to show him how much she liked Wayne, hoping it would make him more agreeable later.
Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
The stalemate only broke when Madam Chang called everyone to dinner.
As the owner of a small restaurant, Madam Chang's culinary skills were beyond question.
Wayne praised every dish with such genuine enthusiasm that Madam Chang couldn't stop smiling.
"Eat as much as you like. You're welcome to visit often," she said, watching approvingly as Wayne kept serving Cho more food.
Seeing his place in the family eroding, Mr Chang finally couldn't take it anymore. He cleared his throat loudly to assert his presence.
Madam Chang shot him a look of pure disdain.
"Are you coming down with something? If you're ill, finish quickly and leave the table. Don't infect Cho and Wayne."
"No, darling," Mr Chang said awkwardly. "I just wanted to mention something."
He looked at Cho with a mysterious air. "You don't know yet, but Hogwarts will be very lively next year."
As expected, Cho became curious.
"Why?"
"A major event will be held at Hogwarts," said Mr Chang mysteriously. "Once the Ministry finishes with the World Cup, preparations will begin. You students are truly fortunate to witness history in the making."
"What kind of event?" Cho grew even more curious. Mr Chang had built up the suspense enough and finally stopped keeping her in suspense:
"The Triwizard Tournament. An event that's been discontinued for centuries will be revived next year."
"I thought it was something serious..."
To Mr Chang's surprise, Cho lowered her head dejectedly instead.
"Don't you know what the Triwizard Tournament is?" he asked, puzzled, about to explain when Cho said listlessly:
"I know. Wayne told me about it two years ago. I'd actually forgotten until you mentioned it."
Mr Chang stared stiffly at the young man. Wayne smiled sheepishly:
"I'm on good terms with Madame Maxime. She told me about it."
Only then did Mr Chang remember this wasn't an ordinary youth before him - a recipient of the Order of Merlin, participant in potions competitions, and rumoured to have recently destroyed over a hundred Dementors.
"Pfft!"
Seeing her husband's disgruntled expression, Mrs Chang finally couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Alright, let's eat before the food gets cold."
...
After dinner, Cho and Mrs Chang tidied the kitchen while Wayne and Mr Chang went to the living room.
"Uncle, there's something I need your help with."
Wayne initiated the conversation.
Mr Chang nodded noncommittally, signalling him to continue.
"I'm spending Christmas at an elder's house this year and wanted to bring Cho along."
"Absolutely not!" Mr Chang nearly leapt up.
"Cho isn't going anywhere with you."
His precious daughter only came home twice a year - how could he agree?
"It's for Cho's benefit."
Undeterred by the outright refusal, Wayne pressed on: "You're on Ministry duty this year, and Auntie has to run the restaurant. Wouldn't Cho be bored alone at home? Celebrating together would keep her company."
He'd done his homework thoroughly.
Being of Chinese heritage, Cho's parents weren't particularly invested in Christmas traditions. To earn extra income, Mrs Chang usually kept the restaurant open during the holidays.
"How did you know about my duty roster?" Mr Chang asked suspiciously. "I didn't mention it at dinner."
"That's not important." Wayne poured him tea. "Uncle, you wouldn't want Cho spending Christmas alone, would you?"
Mr Chang's eyes dimmed, though he still didn't consent directly. "You'll need to ask your aunt about this."
"Eh?" Wayne feigned surprise.
"Doesn't the household follow your decisions?"
Good lad, knows what's what!
Mr Chang's opinion of Wayne improved considerably.
Soon, Cho and Mrs Chang joined them after cleaning up. Wayne raised the matter again.
"You're on duty this year?" Mrs Chang looked at her husband in surprise. "You didn't mention it earlier."
"I hadn't figured out how to tell you," Mr Chang admitted wryly.
"Mr Crouch only informed me today. He said... There might be a promotion afterwards."
"But Cho..." Mrs Chang hesitated, glancing at their daughter.
"I'll go with Wayne."
Even Cho hadn't expected such convenient timing and readily agreed, secretly delighted at spending the holidays with Wayne.
Thus, the matter was settled.
After lingering a while longer, Wayne prepared to leave.
When Cho moved to see him out, Mr Chang stood instead.
"I'll walk him."
"Dad, don't bully Wayne," Cho cautioned anxiously.
Mr Chang's fists clenched.
The padded jacket he'd only worn for a few years was already letting in drafts everywhere.
Stepping outside, Mr Chang asked in confusion, "I still don't understand. How did you know about the ministry's decision so quickly?"
Wayne smiled sheepishly. "I'm on good terms with Mr Crouch. I happened to mention you during our chat the day before yesterday."
It wasn't until the young man disappeared in a taxi that Mr Chang finally realised.
"That little bastard! So you're the one who screwed me over!"