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Chapter 515: Who is the Fake Moody?

This magic permitted the caster to see memories, emotions and thoughts of the victim. It was strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic and was not allowed to be used.

However, fake Moody would not care about this. That was the best chance for him to get information. By giving the young Wizards a chance to see the dark magic in class, he can use these spells unscrupulously and with impunity.

In addition, there were many evil dark magic spells that could be used, and Evan had learned and worked on many of them. The little wizards were defenseless against this, and he could cast the spells unscrupulously.

The terrible thing was that there was no way to stop him, and no one would raise an objection, because Moody was like this; he would do whatever the fake Moody would do on the surface!

“It’s good for you to see this earlier. You can’t stay in school forever!” Moody continued, with a terrible smile on his face. “Evan, you’re far more powerful than any wizard of your age. It’s time for you to see what real Dark Magic looks like. I am looking forward to seeing your performance… Well, I’ve arrived at my place. I wish you a good night’s sleep.”

Moody dragged the prosthesis and slowly disappeared into the shadow on the innermost side of the second floor.

Looking at his back, Evan felt even stranger, and his clear thoughts suddenly became complicated.

He passed through a door hidden behind the tapestry and walked up a narrower staircase. As he walked, he was thinking about what had happened this evening.

This fake Moody’s behavior tonight was too abnormal. What was his purpose?!

It seemed that not only Harry, but also Evan was one of his goals.

And the name that couldn’t be shown on the Marauder’s Map … Was that fake Moody still Barty Crouch Jr.?!

If it wasn’t him, would it be…

Evan suddenly thought of Caresius, the dangerous vampire, who was the only one who could help Voldemort. And he was strong enough to use that magic to keep his name from being marked on the Marauder’s Map.

If he had come to Hogwarts as Mad-Eye Moody, then things could become… interesting, to say the least!

He and Voldemort were only allies, and he was not obliged to be loyal to him like the Death Eaters.

Even to some extent, Caresius and Evan had the same goals.

Thinking of this, Evan suppressed the uneasiness in his heart.

He decided to get closer to him according to the original plan to see what the guy was doing.

By the time Evan returned to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was standing outside the Common Room waiting for him.

In the dripping rain outside, her slender body rested on the orange curtain at the corner.

Hermione was looking at The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 in front of her. Through the bright torches at both ends of the corridor, she looked exquisitely beautiful.

She was so immersed in reading that she had not noticed that Evan had come.

Evan didn’t disturb her either. He just looked at her and seemed to want to engrave her image in his mind.

“Evan?!” For a long time, Hermione stretched out like a kitten and rubbed her eyes as if to notice Evan standing in front of her. She hurriedly closed the book, stood up and said with a smile, “When did you come back?”

“Just now, why haven’t you gone to bed yet?” asked Evan. “Where are the others?”

“They’re all in there talking about the Triwizard tournament and trying to muddle through.” said Hermione, “I thought you don’t know the new password yet, so I stayed here waiting for you. I feared you would be able to get in… “

Hearing Hermione’s words of concern, Evan felt extraordinarily warm and happy.

He naturally took the girl’s cold hand, and he forgot about all the conspiracies and dangers for that moment.

Hermione did not resist, she let Evan hold her, but her face blushed.

They stood silent for a few seconds, as if to resume from a happy time…

“Evan, what did Dumbledore tell you in the Great Hall?” Hermione asked.

“He asked me to promise not to participate in the Triwizard Tournament.” Said Evan, “You know, my age is not up to the requirements, and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang seem to think I’m too strong.”

“What?!” said Hermione in amazement. “They mentioned you by name and asked to exclude you from the tournament?!”

“That’s it, and I’ve promised Dumbledore that I wouldn’t participate.” said Evan.

He couldn’t take part in the competition, and he was worried about his future plans.

But if the guy acting as Moody was none other than Caresius, there would be other solutions to this matter, and he wouldn’t have to worry much about it. Perhaps things would become even simpler.

Evan felt it might be a good option to talk directly to the vampire to understand his purpose and plan.

If he just wanted to bring Harry’s blood to Voldemort, they might be able to cooperate.

Of course, before that, he had to identify him and confirm that he was really the vampire.

“It’s very unfair, isn’t it?!” said Hermione, dissatisfied. “They can’t deprive you of your qualifications just because you’re too strong. I know the game is very dangerous; many people have died and I don’t want you to participate. But the age limit for the competitors is because younger wizards don’t have enough strength to protect themselves in the competition, and you obviously have the ability…”

Hermione’s dissatisfaction with Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic had obviously increased. Her topic naturally shifted to house-elves and she was still bitter about Hogwarts’ failure to pay the house-elves.

“I found out that our school and the wizarding world are full of invisible discrimination and oppression. This is extremely unfair. Evan, this is what happened to you this evening. It’s the same with the house-elves. They are being squeezed as slaves, and we have to do something to stop this from happening…”

It seemed that she intended to write an article for the Hogwarts Magic, and wanted to seek Evan’s advice.

Evan didn’t want to discuss this topic with Hermione because he knew there was no end to it.

He hurried to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she said as they approached.

“Balderdash!” said Hermione.

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables.

Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a gloomy look, and Evan distinctly heard her mutter “Slave labor…”

Beside the fireplace, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Neville, Colin and his brother Dennis were sitting, still talking about the Triwizard Tournament. They were not qualified for the tournament because of their ages.

They were discussing what Dumbledore said about the impartial judge who was going to decide who the champions were, and tried to guess who he would be.

“Whoever he is, he’s the one we’ll have to fool, and I think a drop or two of the Ageing Potion…” said Fred, clenching his fist and clapping his palm.

“But Dumbledore knows that you are not old enough,” said Ron.

“Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?” said Fred shrewdly. “Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he’ll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore’s trying to keep us from giving our names.”