Chapter 109: Happy Times Are Always Brief

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The screaming mouse, after letting out a wail, slumped to the side and fainted. The will of the silent Fourth Calamity was shrouded in a darkness that was overwhelmingly terrifying. In terms of energy purity, this dark magic could rival ancient magic, conjuring up indescribable horror in Peter's mind.

It was as if he were staring into the face of an indescribable Old God, and Peter, who was already timid by nature, fainted from fright.

However, he quickly opened his eyes again. The tip of Harry's gun was ignited with a small flame, perfect for lighting a cigarette. The feeble flame seared his tail, filling the air with the smell of burning. Peter, jolted awake by the pain, once again transformed into a noise-making machine, delighting the smiling boy with his vivid performance.

Harry admitted that he was not a good person. Seeing his enemy in pain brought him joy and pleasure. The saying "a gentleman takes revenge ten years later" didn't apply to him; he reveled in petty revenge from dawn till dusk, bringing disaster upon entire families to eradicate the problem entirely.

However, this approach was reserved for enemies and foes. In normal circumstances, Harry was exceptionally kind; he was generous to friends and family and never initiated hostility toward strangers. Rational, restrained, and polite—these were his trademarks. He managed to get along well with many people, a reflection of his upbringing. Whether in his past life or this one, his education had always been the same.

Yet, he understood that mercy toward enemies was cruelty to oneself, and he adhered to this principle. Because of this, his personality could be extremely polarized when interacting with different people, bordering on what could be considered a split personality.

"Although I have countless questions for you, Peter, let me have a little fun first. After all the effort I put into finding you, it would be too merciful to simply inject you with a truth serum and then send you off to Azkaban to enjoy your retirement, right? That's not my style."

"When it comes to tormenting you, I might not be capable of that just yet. My level of depravity hasn't reached Professor Grindelwald's heights. But look at you now, just a little fat mouse."

"Thank my father for teaching you Animagus transformation." Harry's voice suddenly turned cold. "This way, I can enjoy torturing you without any psychological burden. Hehehe~"

Under the influence of the transformation spell, a complete set of mouse-sized wooden 'furniture' was conjured by Harry.

"Our first game today is called 'The Rack.' Look, don't you think my little cart looks just like one?"

"Rest assured, I have enough potions with me. Even if you're down to your last breath, I can still snatch you from Death's grasp."

Several vials and jars were placed aside. The mouse's limbs were tied with small ropes, the other ends secured to the wooden cart.

"'The Rack' is also known as 'The Five-Horse Dissection.' While I won't put the ropes around your head, who says mice don't have tails?"

With Harry and Grindelwald—two chaotic evil mischief-makers—watching eagerly, the little cart began to move. The taut ropes pulled the mouse's body straight, and as the tension increased, faint tearing sounds began to emerge.

"Ohhhh!!!"

Grindelwald clapped his hands with delight. "This is interesting! This punishment is much more entertaining than the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Next! Let me try! Let me try!" Grindelwald exclaimed excitedly, pulling out his wand. "I want to try Iron Maiden; medieval Muggles loved this thing. I wonder how it'll play out."

As the two pranksters huddled together, reality began to warp around them. Dumbledore, trying to shield his eyes from the scene, opened the door, cradling a jar of cockroaches as he devoured them with gusto. The sweet, rich taste brought a smile to his wrinkled face, temporarily distracting him from the shrill cries echoing nearby.

As a member of the good camp, he didn't like seeing this scene, but who could blame Grindelwald for having so much fun? If he chose to forget, then perhaps this moment would never have happened.

Time always flies when one is enjoying themselves. After the two pranksters had their fill, the dark sky outside began to yield a glimmer of light. Under the torment of Snape's potions and an endless stream of cheerful little games, Peter was on the brink of collapse. If it weren't for the Awakening Potion keeping him alert, our little mouse would have surely struggled to endure this joyful time.

Harry, holding the thoroughly exhausted mouse by the tail, observed Dumbledore, who had just let out a belch after consuming a lethal amount of sugary candy. They exchanged no words. Suddenly, Fawkes appeared, enveloping the three of them—a boy and a mouse—in flames, and transported them back to the long-forgotten headmaster's office.

The ornate silverware still held the spiraling smoke aloft, and the immaculate headmaster's office showed no signs of neglect despite its absence of human presence. After the glow of the spell faded, Peter Pettigrew, forcibly returned to his human form from his Animagus state, collapsed onto the floor. Though his exterior bore no visible scars, his nearly shattered mind left him feeling dazed and wooden.

"What should we play next?"

This phrase, uttered countless times before, seemed to activate a switch. Peter's body jolted, and he sprang up from the ground, frantically trying to escape. However, with nowhere to go, he could only pace in place, unable to leave.

"I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you all! Please, let me die! I beg you!"

"Still, the mouse looks more pleasant," Grindelwald interrupted Peter's shrill cries. "Turning back into a human is just too ugly."

The disheveled and foul-smelling human form of Peter certainly looked poor; despite his now abundant curly hair, he exuded a distinctly rat-like demeanor. His prolonged transformation into a mouse had a significant effect on him, not only mentally but also influencing his expressions and mannerisms.

"Yeah, my dad has terrible taste. Even if he's picking up a little brother, he shouldn't just toss any old junk onto his back."

Harry began to critique, acknowledging Lily's identity but struggling to fully accept his adoptive father, James. Although Harry understood that James loved him just as much as Lily did, sometimes people need to 'see' to believe.

Even a single kind word would likely remain unheard for Harry, as he might never hear that concern from his father.

With a hint of melancholy, Harry pulled out a vial containing the truth serum.

"Three drops."

He muttered to himself, while Peter, eyes wide with desire, opened his mouth as if the potion were a delicacy, eagerly swallowing it down.

A nauseatingly familiar taste spread through his mouth. Even with his tongue numb, this flavor penetrated deep into his soul, and he had never learned to 'get used to' it.

The long-buried past began to spill forth from Peter's lips. He detailed everything from his betrayal ten years ago to last Halloween's incident, leaving no stone unturned.

Voldemort had not been brought to Hogwarts by him; rather, after he arrived, Voldemort sought him out. The Dark Mark branded on him served as a locational beacon. A servant bearing this mark could never escape Voldemort's grasp; no matter how far he went, he could never evade Voldemort's control.

As the servant of the Dark Lord divulged all, a pair of vengeful, crimson eyes opened in the darkness. An ethereal form broke free from its vessel, dark magic coursing into its body, and the black mist began to reshape its figure.

Death is not an end; it does not necessarily lead to a greater adventure. The ghost of survival attempted to carve out a new path. Does true immortality really exist, as people often claim?

(End of Chapter)