Chapter 199: Incendio Noctis

When Harry saw Barty Crouch Jr., he was sitting in his office, wearing large square-framed glasses, reviewing his lesson plans.

"Oh, Harry," he said, folding his glasses and tucking them into his coat pocket. "I've been wanting to speak with you, but I never knew how to begin. Since you're here now, good—we can talk."

"Tell me first why you came to me—are you in need of help?" Barty stood up, walked around his desk, and came to stand before Harry.

"I'm not sure if it's appropriate, but I do need some help," Harry said hesitantly.

"So you've found out about the dragons, then?" Barty's chin lifted slightly.

"I wasn't supposed to know," Harry said, feeling guilty.

"It doesn't matter—cheating has always been part of the Triwizard Tournament's tradition," Barty said, walking over to a small sofa. "Come, let's sit down."

"Indeed, you should know some of this…" Harry remembered the conversation between Bartemius and Leslie—the Ministry had bribed Fleur and Krum from the start.

"Then, Harry, have you decided how to deal with the dragons?" Barty asked.

"Cedric and I both fly well—enough to get past them," Harry said dryly. "But we lack effective offensive spells to actually defeat them."

"Good—you used the word 'them,'" Barty remarked. "It seems you never intended to face just one dragon."

Harry blinked, suddenly realizing there might be isolated dragons—and he might not need to defeat them—but of course, he'd never planned to anyway; that would be too childish.

"Of course, I can't openly help you, but I can offer some general advice," Barty adjusted his posture, crossing his hands over his thighs, speaking lightly. "Everyone knows spells are hard to use against dragons—they have high magical resistance—but physically, their skin isn't particularly strong, right?"

"Seems so," Harry recalled—Ron had followed Hermione's advice and gathered some materials for him, noting that while dragonhide was far tougher than ordinary fur, it was still organic fiber and could be pierced by sharp blades.

"If you need a spell to inflict physical damage, I'd usually recommend Sectumsempra," Barty said softly. "But you'll find it insufficient—you'll need something stronger, won't you?"

"Yes," Harry thought of the Explosion Curse, but from Barty's tone, it seemed he had another answer in mind.

"Even if it's Dark Magic?"

"Uh," Harry hesitated, then quickly realized—if Barty thought it unsuitable to teach him, he wouldn't have mentioned it at all. "I hope its side effects aren't severe."

"Strictly speaking, it has no side effects—it's a brilliant spell. We classify it as Dark Magic only because the user was a Death Eater," Barty pursed his lips. "The only problem is, its effect is immense—and seemingly irreversible."

Harry said nothing, only stared at him in silence.

"Incendio Noctis—it can slice anything in half without sound or light, and cannot be reversed by magic. Countless Aurors bear scars from this spell that can never be erased," Barty continued. "The Ministry easily learned and replicated it, but we still don't know its counter-curse."

"Wounds from Incendio Noctis cannot be healed by any healing spell or medicine like Wiggentree salve. You'll keep bleeding until platelets begin to clot—or until you die," Barty added.

"So it causes 'purely scientific' damage—containing no magical component at all?" Only now did Harry understand what "magic" meant in opposition here.

"You've heard this theory before," Barty nodded. "Correct—in principle, it strips away almost all magical elements, leaving the victim to suffer as a Muggle would."

"That sounds," Harry considered carefully, "like a truly effective spell against dragons."

"Yes—but I must warn you: never use it on a wizard," Barty said. "It's too cruel for our own kind. And for Death Eaters, some of them know the counter-curse—so it loses its edge."

Harry gave a slight nod. Barty had guessed exactly what he was thinking—he wanted to use it against Voldemort.

"So that's all I'll say about the dragons," Barty wrote a line on paper and handed it to Harry—it was the incantation for Incendio Noctis.

"Then, should we talk about," Harry tucked the paper away, his voice tense, "the Chrono-Sphere?"

"Yes, Ollivander told me. It's hard to decide—I can't bring myself to say it," Barty rubbed his chin, his expression strained. "Some say we should ignore it and let you proceed with the original plan against Voldemort; others say we must find another way; still others believe the choice should be yours."

"What's your opinion?" Harry didn't mention the Stasis Curse.

"Twelve years ago, the Department of Mysteries consolidated and reorganized the original Silencekeepers, launching the Doctor Project," Barty said, veering into an unrelated topic—but Harry didn't interrupt. "Originally, their task was only to study magic of time and fate, as Xuan Jun has always done. But then something happened—the Dark Lord returned."

"My father defied all opposition and chose to stand against the Dark Lord—a risky decision… but we all agreed. His rule was too brutal—it was disastrous for the wizarding world," Barty seemed to struggle. "On that day, the Doctors reached consensus: Never cowardly. Never cruel. Never surrender. Never give up. It was once displayed on the TARDIS control panel—we had to do it. That's what 'Doctor' means."

"So Ollivander told me the truth," Harry said softly in agreement.

"Yes, even if you now seem resolved," Barty suddenly stood. "We can't let you do it. We'll find another way to defeat Voldemort—without harming a single innocent life."

"Give me the Chrono-Sphere," he said with finality. "First, to stop you from doing something foolish. Second, I want to see if I can repair it."

"No, I have a new idea," Harry refused. "If the Chrono-Sphere's problem is overcharging, then good—I know a spell that consumes enormous magical energy. It can achieve our goal—and might just drain the excess energy from the Chrono-Sphere."

"You underestimate the energy level of time and fate, Harry," Barty sighed gently. "We have over a dozen ways to solve magical consumption—but the Chrono-Sphere is by far the most dangerous."

"Then that's fine," Harry calmly drew his wand. "If you can help me solve the magical consumption problem, I don't have to use the Chrono-Sphere. But that spell consumes so much—a full-grown wizard's entire magic can only seal him for three days, maybe less."

"Seal?" Barty frowned. "And such massive consumption? Sounds like Soviet tech. Is the spell's origin reliable?"

Harry paused, then remembered—since the painting had been returned by Neville using Hyperion, there was likely no conspiracy. Where the tech came from didn't matter—Neville could learn Soviet spells. He would. He was eager to learn anything to fight Voldemort.

"I think it's fine," Harry said.

"Then perhaps we really can use the Chrono-Sphere," Barty returned the wand. "Three days' worth of potential energy converted to magic might be enough to banish him to the end of time."

"Good," Harry's tone lightened instantly. "I didn't expect to solve two things weighing on me today."

"Don't celebrate yet—we still need calculations," Barty's face broke into an unhidden smile. "We must confirm your spell works—and keep a backup plan."

Ten minutes later, as Harry stepped out of Barty's office, another thought surfaced: Neville had told him Barty Crouch Jr. had once been a Death Eater and died in prison shortly after his capture.

But Barty himself didn't seem like a Death Eater at all. Harry could see in his eyes that he genuinely loved the title "Doctor" and was firmly committed to upholding what "Doctor" meant—nothing like the actions of a repentant Death Eater. Or perhaps he'd never been one.

A gut feeling told Harry he couldn't trust both Barty and Neville. But Harry thought the idea absurd—if he accepted the Stasis Curse was reliable and the Doctors were helping him, it completed the final piece of the plan. To doubt either now was not what he wanted to consider.

Finally, before returning to the train, Harry's reason overcame the strange intuition. He found an explanation.

Bartemius had always been resolute in resisting Voldemort. To that end, he sent his own son undercover. After Voldemort's first fall, Barty was about to be purged—but Bartemius knew Voldemort would return. So he arranged for Barty to fake his death, then founded the Doctor Project to continue fighting Voldemort. The brilliance lay in everyone calling themselves "Doctor"—it perfectly concealed Barty's true identity. The world knew only the Tenth Doctor, never realizing he was Bartemius's son.

Thinking this way, all the pieces fell into place. Harry felt profound respect for Bartemius. He wasn't as powerful as Dumbledore, but he too defended justice in his own way—with tireless, meticulous devotion. He was truly admirable.