Chapter 352: Interrogation

Quinn pulled himself atop the Hogwarts Express. The black roof was windy, fluttering Quinn’s clothes and hair back and making his balance difficult. He snapped his fingers, and the winds neutralized their assault on him.

The Death Eaters that flew above the train, like annoying mosquitos buzzing. Spells came down from the sky at the train, but shield spells would shoot up and intercept the attacks.

Quinn watched as a rope shot up on the side of the next coach, and an Auror climbed up on the roof just as himself. Quinn stilled himself and focused more on his invisibility— he didn’t want to get found out like he did during the Azkaban transport— unlike that time, he wasn’t masked. Similarly, several Aurors climbed up on the roofs, and the exchange immediately became more heated as the Aurors began to attack while protecting the train.

Quinn stayed put on his spot. He wasn’t going to make a move if the train wasn’t in explicit danger. . . and from the looks of it, the Aurors were doing a good job protecting the train.

‘Should I shoot some of them down?’ he still wondered, looking between the Death Eaters and the Aurors. After a thought, he decided not to do anything, but just as he was about to close down the query, his eyes caught an unmasked Death Eater flying among the masked ones.

An unmasked Death Eaters. . . those among the Dark Lord’s rank, who didn’t mind their identities revealed while doing their Death Eater duties— they were those been broken out of Azkaban, who knew that showing their faces would make no difference, thus hiding them provided no value.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior,” Quinn muttered as his eyes followed the one guilty of patricide. ‘I can’t let this chance get away, can I?’

Bartemius ‘Barty’ Crouch Junior was an inner circle Death Eater, a fanatic one at that. It was no secret that he worshipped the dirt that Voldemort had walked on and thus wasn’t scared to follow every word uttered by his master— and he did have a reputation for being crazy in the head with a passion for destruction and chaos.

Quinn glanced at the Aurors before raising his hand with his palm following the flying Barty Crouch. Quinn waited for him to lower his altitude, and the moment Quinn thought that the range was close enough for absolute hit accuracy, he let the spell fly. It whistled through the wind and struck Barty in the back.

Barty’s broom immediately dipped, and the rider leaned to the slide and slipped off. For a second, Quinn watched the man free fall through the floor; he thought if he should just let the man fall— the height of the fall wasn’t enough for absolute death, there was an equal chance of life and death— and for a moment, he was fine with taking the chance and let luck decide Barty’s fate. . . . But the, at the very last moment, Quinn apparated from the roof and appeared right under Barty’s free fall.

He raised his magic up and cut off the body’s momentum. He caught Barty and immediately apparated off from the scene.

. . .

Quinn appeared in a forest and dumped the unconscious body on the ground before sighing.

He knew that Aurors would question among themselves who shot the Death Eater down, and when they would conclude that it was none among them, they’d go to the professors, who would again refuse, and then it’d go to students. If, by chance, Barty had died, Aurors would need to launch a mandatory investigation involving everyone second year onwards, and he didn’t want that to happen— adults questioning young children, who would obviously be anxious about the questioning— and that didn’t sit well with Quinn.

He didn’t want the young children to go through such experiences. Even if none of them would be charged, he didn’t want them to take the stress that would naturally pop up even if they knew they were safe. Moreover, who knew how Voldemort would respond. Maybe the mad man would use it as an opportunity to attack every first-generation magical’s family for revenge, so Quinn whisked Barty away to ensure that no student would be involved.

“Now, what should I do with him?”

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He stared down at Barty Crouch with narrowed eyes. First, he stripped Barty naked; even the underwear wasn’t spared, but because he didn’t want to have a wiener in his vision, he conjured underwear over Barty. Next, he cast a space-locking ward around them to disable apparition and portkeys. While he had taken away all the clothes and belongings, there was no telling if Barty had something inside his body that could be used as a portkey.

Then there was a stretch of stillness. Barty lay unconscious as Quinn stared down at him. . . . Quinn took out a triangular black patch from his pocket. He tapped it, and the black Noir mask came out with a pair of leather gloves. He put the mask and gloves on, leaving the rest of the outfit inside the Noir patch. His hair changed colors, and even their style altered.

“Wake up.”

Quinn removed the spell he had cast and then dumped ice-cold water on him. Barty sucked in a cold breath along with the ice water and turned to his side, coughing his lungs out.

“H-uh? W-What?” Barty muttered under confusion.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior,” said Quinn, gaining Barty’s attention.

“You!” Barty recognized Quinn’s Invisible Vigilante immediately.

“You have failed the magical community, Death Eaters,” said Quinn, his voice distorted. You have killed, maimed, harmed countless innocent lives, and have done so without a single shred of regret inside you— it is time for you to be judged.”

“You filthy—”

Quinn swiped his hand in the air, and Barty was struck with an invisible slap.

“HOW DARE—”

Quinn swiped his hand again, and another tight slap attacked Barty’s face.

“sToP—”

Another slap knocked Barty down as he tried to get up.

Barty stared at Quinn with vigilant eyes. He opened his mouth but then promptly closed it when he saw Quinn raise his hand.

“You will speak when I allow you to speak,” said Quinn.

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Barty reached around seemingly for his wand. His eyes widened as he realized that his wand wasn’t near him. He looked down and saw that he was only wearing underwear that wasn’t his.

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“I will have you answer some of my questions,” said Quinn, deciding to exploit the chance that he had unexpectedly created. “How is the Dark Lord doing? I heard that he is not feeling these days.”

Barty’s eyes widened, “How did you?!”

“When it comes to filth like you, I know things. Answer my question.”

Barty spat in response. “You can go to hell, you blood traitor. . . no, I’m sure you’re a foul mudblood.”

Quinn calmly raised his hand, and a spark of lightning zapped Barty, sending him into screaming pain. “Don’t answer my questions— be ready for some punishment.”

“Fuck you! AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

“How is the Dark Lord’s health,” Quinn asked again.

Barty refused to answer and was again struck with magic that sent him rolling in pain. Barty continued refusing to answer, and Quinn continued to dole out punishment in painful proportions.

Barty laid on the ground, panting, writhing in pain. His body twitched and spasmed with tremors. Seeing that, Quinn spoke, “It looks we need to raise the stakes. Continue to not answer my questions— and I’ll take your magic away.”

That made Barty twitch from something other than the pain. He looked up at Quinn, wariness and fear in his eyes. His eyes studied Quinn— studied the Invisible Vigilante, who was known to have taken magic away from various Death Eaters.

“I see you have made your decision,” Quinn spoke when Barty kept his silence. “Then you know what you have to pay.”

A dark haze suddenly puffed out Quinn’s hand, startling Barty. The Death Eaters pushed himself back on the ground, away from Quinn. However, it was futile as Quinn raised his hand, and a copious amount of hazy smoke flew out of his palm and pooled onto the earthy ground. The magic moved like it had a mind on its own, chasing Barty, and when it reached his body, it rose and covered him up. Sticking to him.

“Stop!” yelled Barty

Quinn clenched his fist. The haze grew darker with soot puffing up around Barty, covering him in an almost opaque smoke. When the screams began, Quinn ignored them and continued to operate his magic, guiding the magic to the intended areas on Barty’s body.

Quinn waved his hand and blew Tentani Nervum’s haze away. He stared at the pathetic-looking Barty and offered, “Answer my questions, and I’ll return you your magic.”

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“. . . F-Fuck Y-Y-Youuuu. . .”

Quinn sighed. He wondered why he wasted so much time going through his method. He wanted to see if he could pry one of the Dark Lord’s fanatic followers’ mouths open. “I do not want to go inside that disgusting mind of yours, but you leave me no other option. . . we will do this the hard way,”

Emperyean ropes shot out from the ground. They wrapped around Barty and pulled him firmly to the ground, keeping him still even with him thrashing around.

Quinn kneeled down beside Barty and placed his palm over his forehead. “This will hurt, do try to endure.”

Barty’s eyes turned to the back of his head, leaving only the whites. Again, a scream pierced the forest as Quinn’s Legilimency tore through Barty’s mind, scouring through the Death Eater’s memories. Experienced them one by one— numerous meetings, small operations that had gone under the details, shady dealings, and the various others related to Death Eaters.

“Ah, please excuse me for a moment,” said Quinn. He got up and turned away from Barty while casting an opaque black ward that blocked out Barty from witnessing anything outside.

He took out the vibrating two-way mirror from his pocket and was about to answer it when he looked around his entirely forest surroundings. He waved his hand, and the scene around him shimmered into a scene of his room with a slight change— the wall behind him was a nondescript wall in case he needed to change locations.

“Hey,” he said, answering the call.

“Are you alright?” Ivy peered through the mirror, looking at Quinn and his surrounding. “Where are you?”

“In my room. It’s going through a repaint,” said Quinn, thinking he’d need to repaint his room now. “I hope the Death Eaters didn’t return,” he said, gambling on the fact that their leader(Barty) disappearing must’ve made them leave.

“No, they left. It was very sudden.”

“One of the Death Eaters got shot down and disappeared; I think that scared them off,” said Quinn, knowing that said Death Eater was behind him.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she said. “You should’ve come in.”

“I thought of doing so but thought that after the attack, your friends would come looking for you— and thought it’d better to leave.”

“They haven’t come yet—” Ivy turned when there was a knock on Ivy’s door. “They’re here. I will talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” said Quinn, waving her goodbye before putting the mirror away. He put on his mask and turned back, and the black dome crumbled away with Barty still on the ground, writhing.

“Sorry about the wait; let’s continue.”

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