https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-671-The-Confession-of-Little-Barty-Crouch/13685889/
Chapter 670: The Technique of Transformation
In the dimly lit room, Moody’s magical eye spun wildly before suddenly locking onto the bound Filch, its gaze fixed with eerie intensity. After a long, silent stare, Moody reached forward, gripped the man’s jaw, and pried it open, testing the facial structure with sharp, precise movements. Then, with a sudden cold snort, he released him.
“You’ve realized it too, Dumbledore?” Moody muttered, his voice low and grim, laced with unmistakable suspicion. “It’s not Transfiguration… this isn’t magical transformation.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Signal Snape to take a look.”
Without expression, the Potion Master stepped forward. His wand slid silently from his sleeve and tapped lightly against the side of Little Barty Crouch’s neck. A series of incantations, low and precise, slipped from his lips.
Moments later, Snape’s black eyes narrowed slightly. He seized Little Barty Crouch by the collar, yanking him close, his eagle-like nose flaring as he sniffed deeply.
“No Polyjuice Potion,” he stated, voice icy and certain.
The two exchanged a glance. Their brows knitted in unison. For once, their mutual disdain was set aside—overwhelmed by the same bewildered question:
If it’s neither spell nor potion… how did this man manage to mimic the real Filch so perfectly?
Sirius Black spoke bluntly. “So you’re saying he didn’t use magic at all?”
Snape raised an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
Sirius sneered. “Who knows what you might’ve—”
The tension between them crackled like a storm about to break—until Wade’s mind sparked with sudden clarity.
“Maybe…” Wade murmured softly, “he went under a Muggle plastic surgery?”
“Plastic surgery?” Sirius frowned, puzzled. “I think Lily Potter mentioned it once—some kind of cosmetic procedure Muggles use… but wouldn’t it only be for minor tweaks? Like reshaping noses or adjusting eyelids?”
Wade nodded. “He likely restructured his entire face first—then refined it in stages. If he used a potion to accelerate healing, the whole process wouldn’t take much time. And honestly, who pays close attention to Filch’s appearance? Even if there were subtle differences, they’d go unnoticed.”
His gaze lingered on Little Barty Crouch—pity mixed with reluctant admiration.
Transforming oneself magically into another’s likeness could be done in seconds. A few breaths, and the change was complete. Aside from the unpleasant aftertaste of Polyjuice Potion, there were no side effects. A simple reversal charm could undo it instantly.
But Hogwarts housed the greatest Transfiguration expert in the world—Dumbledore himself. Little Barty Crouch would never dare attempt such a spell openly. And using Polyjuice Potion? That required drinking it hourly, and acquiring the ingredients was a risky endeavor. Stealing from the Potions Master or buying them from Knockturn Alley would only increase the chance of exposure.
It made sense, then—this was the only viable option.
Yet the cost was staggering. To make his skin sag, deepen the lines, remove facial fat, reshape bone structure, wear down teeth… it would take five to ten surgeries. The suffering must have been immense.
Wade couldn’t help but think: Little Barty Crouch truly loves Voldemort… deeply.
Snape glanced at Wade. His lips twitched almost imperceptibly. But he said nothing—instead, he leaned forward again, his fingers tracing the contours of the “Filch” face. Then he ripped open the man’s robe.
Filch always wore his dusty, shapeless cloak—never removed, not even in the hottest summer. His neck and torso remained hidden beneath layers of fabric. So Little Barty Crouch hadn’t bothered to alter the skin on his body. The chest and face were worlds apart—one aged and weathered, the other unnaturally smooth. A stark, unnatural boundary ran straight across the collar.
Snape straightened, his voice dripping with disdain. “Confirmed. He used Muggle methods to transform himself into this form.”
Dumbledore spoke calmly. “A clever approach. Unexpected… but effective. It bypassed magical detection entirely. It fooled our eyes.”
He turned to Wade, his gaze piercing, as if reading the very depths of his thoughts. “Wade… do you know his true identity?”
Wade shook his head. “He didn’t mention anything before capture.”
Hidden in the folds of his sleeve, his fingertip brushed the wand. Though he could still see the name Little Barty Crouch, he couldn’t explain why he knew. So he said nothing.
After all, uncovering a disguise didn’t rely on a single method.
“Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly, “fetch your strongest Veritaserum. We need to hear this man’s story.”
“Alastor,” he added, “go to the Infirmary and bring back a vial of Reversion Potion.”
They nodded once, then turned and departed without delay.
Wade frowned. “Reversion Potion?”
He’d never heard of it.
“A very potent draught,” Dumbledore replied gently. “Typically used to treat victims of dark magic transformations. Sometimes, it’s also used when someone accidentally ingests a flawed Polyjuice Potion. I suspect the body forcibly altered by Muggle surgery could also be restored with it.”
Wade thought: So in the original timeline, when Hermione was turned into that cat-woman… was it this potion that fixed her?
That would be strange. Though Wade kept Polyjuice Potion in his inventory as a standard tool, in the wizarding world, it was rare and dangerous. Most wizards avoided it openly—risking warnings, even arrest, from the Ministry of Magic.
“Now,” Dumbledore said, pulling a chair into place and gesturing for Wade and Sirius Black to sit, “tell me—how did you discover Filch was a fraud?”
(End of Chapter)
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