HP: Alchemy? Nah, It's Crafting Chapter 245: 245: Barty Crouch Jr

After such a major incident, there was no way they could stay at the campsite. Kasen gathered the young wizards back and, together with Lupin and the others, returned to their hideout…

Sirius's house.

"Ever since the day you helped renovate this place, I've wanted to ask you… So when I asked if you could make a wrist-blade like Harry's, you said no. But then you turned around and gave yourself an even cooler set of gear, didn't you?" Sirius stared resentfully at Kasen's back.

"Couldn't you pick a better ti to say sothing like that? Maybe comfort Harry a bit instead?" Lupin, irritated, patted Sirius. The latter shrugged, elbowing Lupin in return. The two didn't actually quarrel—it was just their way of trying to cheer Harry up.

The young wizards listened as Kasen spoke, all of them letting out murmurs of admiration in unison. No one blurted out awkward or nosy questions; everyone played along naturally.

...

anwhile, back in the now-settled forest of the Quidditch World Cup campsite.

"Master will be very pleased with you." Young Barty Crouch, freshly freed from the Imperius Curse, smiled as he looked at the unconscious Winky on the ground and the tall, intimidating figure before him.

"Well done, big guy." He reached out his hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet by the enormous hand extended toward him.

"I still prefer it when you call Neos." After hoisting Barty up, Neos started toward the fainted Winky on the ground. For a house-elf, he didn't even need a wand—just lifting his foot and stomping down would be enough.

"Don't." Barty's voice stopped him short.

"Oh… it's just a house-elf." Neos shrugged helplessly, pulling his foot back. His fan-sized hand patted young Barty Crouch's shoulder, and in the next instant, the two of them vanished.

...

The next morning…

"So… what exactly does a scar hurting even an?"

Kasen had barely stepped through the door when he heard Lupin and Sirius in the dining room, still analyzing the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Sitting down, he casually grabbed Lupin's breakfast, munching as he listened for a bit before asking curiously.

"Hm?" Everyone at the table turned to look at him. Kasen had no choice but to clarify: "I an, maybe it's just ordinary physical pain? It is a scar, after all. Why not go to the hospital and have it looked at?"

"No, no, no—that wouldn't be magical at all. From a magical perspective, any reaction from a scar that carries magic like Harry's cannot be dismissed as trivial. It might even be a premonition from fate itself," Lupin explained.

"Oh. But aside from hurting, there's nothing else?" Kasen asked.

"I can also feel emotions from it."

"Like what?"

"For example… last night it felt… joyful?" Harry's voice grew less confident as he spoke, since linking pain and joy together sounded strange no matter how he tried. For original chapters go to novelꞁire

Kasen's expression darkened as well. Sirius and Lupin had already been discussing it for ages, and the conclusion was always the sa: this scar was tied to Voldemort.

And now, that scar connected to Voldemort had, just last night, given off a feeling of joy…

"So you're saying last night's riot ant Voldemort probably got what he wanted, and the Death Eaters weren't after you?" Kasen looked at Harry doubtfully.

"Maybe. I don't have to be that important," Harry said casually.

"Actually, you are pretty important. What I an is—if Voldemort managed to get what he wanted in so regard, that's the real issue. Knowing the enemy has succeeded is worse than finding out sothing bad happened," Kasen muttered.

"Oh… then what should I do? Tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked, pulling a bitter face.

"Let's hope he's at Hogwarts. I'll go check." Kasen vanished with Ender Teleport, then reappeared soon after.

"Dumbledore's not at Hogwarts. He's not even in Europe right now."

"Where did he go?" Lupin asked.

"Oh… apparently he went to recruit a very high-profile Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year… maybe he's off traveling with the new professor? They're about the sa age, after all," Kasen said offhandedly.

"Dumbledore's contemporary…" Sirius looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The others, too, tacitly dropped the subject of Harry's scar hurting. After all, talking about it wouldn't change anything. Without Dumbledore here, it'll just be useless.

Well, not entirely useless—it did send Harry spiraling into endless self-doubt, which in its own way might have been part of Voldemort's plan.

And Kasen… was the sa. He didn't say much, but he thought plenty. If Lupin and Sirius's reasoning was correct, then on the day of the Quidditch World Cup, Voldemort must have gotten what he wanted.

At the very least, his plan had been carried out—and carried out successfully. Maybe even very successfully.

But what exactly had he accomplished? If Voldemort's target wasn't Harry, then what was it?

What else, besides Harry, was worth such an elaborate sche, even worth sacrificing a whole group of Death Eaters as cannon fodder…

No, that couldn't have been part of Voldemort's original plan. Logically speaking, for over thirty reasonably capable Death Eaters to all die while the Ministry only suffered minimal losses—just a handful of people—it didn't make sense.

But reality didn't care about logic. That was how it had turned out. And that was what made Kasen feel uneasy.

For Voldemort to be happy even after losing thirty-so capable Death Eaters… just what kind of big prize had he gained?

That was a question worth pondering.

....

And so, the holiday seed to fast-forward in an instant.

Lupin returned to the dragon reserve in Romania, half-slacking, half-keeping watch over Neos, trying to uncover what secrets this hulking man might be hiding.

Kasen, anwhile, enjoyed a rather good holiday. Nothing happened.

Hogwarts holidays were paid, and his only daily worry was deciding what to eat for his three als, while living a routine of early to bed and early to rise.

Once he finished all of his magical experints, he returned to his house on Baker Street.

This ti, he swapped out the locks again—now building one himself out of redstone and pistons. Naturally, he also replaced the window locks.

He even changed the front door to a reinforced security door.

Unless Sherlock decided to literally knock down the wall, there was no way he was getting in!

And Sherlock did notice when life stirred again in his once-empty neighbor's flat.

One day, bored, he thought about dropping by Kasen's place… only to find the locks had been changed.

That very night, cloaked in black, he tried his hand at picking the lock…

_________

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