Harry Potter with Technology System

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"At the end of this year, I will hand Barty Crouch Jr. to you."

Neville blinked, turning to Harry, clearly caught off guard by the statement. "What?"

"You heard me," Harry said calmly, though he kept his eyes on the horizon. "He's the one who tortured your parents. The one who helped Bellatrix. At the end of this year, I'll make sure you get your shot."

Neville didn't respond right away, gripping the stone beneath him tightly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he was struggling to find the right words. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I failed to find Bellatrix last year," Harry said, the lie slipping out effortlessly. He accepted that it was easier than the truth. Last year, when Bellatrix escaped, he and Neville had sat in this very spot on the Astronomy Tower, and Harry had made a promise—one he had no intention of keeping once Bellatrix fell into his hands. Instead of handing her over to Neville as he planned, he saw more use in keeping her under his control. Still, he wasn't about to leave Neville empty-handed. Barty Crouch Jr. would have to do.

Neville stayed silent, gripping the edge of the stone ledge tightly. The wind whipped around them, cold and biting, but neither moved.

Neville nodded, his brows furrowed. "How will you find him? Wait, isn't he dead?"

Harry looked up at the sky for a moment. Venus gleamed bright, cutting through the murky clouds. "I've been tracking Death Eaters for a while. Turns out Barty Crouch Jr. cheated death and escaped Azkaban."

Neville's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. "Escaped? But they said he died in prison. How did you even—"

"His father covered it up," Harry cut in smoothly, keeping his gaze on the stars. "Old man Crouch went to extreme lengths to keep it quiet. Replaced him with his dying wife using Polyjuice Potion, staged the death, and kept Junior under house arrest. All secret until... well, he slipped out eventually."

Neville stared at Harry, stunned by how casually he was recounting something so twisted. "And you're sure he's alive? Not just some rumor?"

"Positive," Harry said flatly. He didn't offer any further explanation. He learned long ago that most people didn't need the whole story—just enough to trust he knew what he was doing.

For a moment, Neville didn't say anything. He tightened his grip on the stone ledge beneath him, the cold biting into his skin. "Good. I will wait for the end of the year." Getting up, he smiled and reached for Harry, who took his hand to stand. Together, they made their way down the spiraling staircase, heading toward the dueling hall. The distant echo of chatter grew louder as they neared the entrance.

Inside, all of the students had already gathered, some sitting on the wooden benches lining the stone walls while others stood in small clusters, talking in hushed tones. The room was dimly lit by enchanted torches mounted on the walls, their flickering light casting long shadows across the floor. Conversations buzzed around them, but as Harry entered, heads began turning in his direction. The noise gradually quieted.

"About time you showed up," Cedric called out from a corner, arms crossed as he leaned lazily against a wall. "Thought we were going to have to start without you."

"Would've been a shame, considering I'm the one teaching," Harry shot back without slowing, he smiled at him.

Once everyone settled, Harry gave them a brief nod. "I know you've all heard what Moody's planning for next class," he began. "Imperius Curse practice."

That earned him a few uneasy looks from the younger students. Hermione, predictably, raised her hand halfway before realizing this wasn't a formal lesson and dropping it awkwardly.

"We're actually going to do that?" Ginny asked, brows furrowed. "Isn't it illegal?"

"Normally, yes," Harry answered. "But he's got Headmasters backing him."

A Hufflepuff asked, "But why are we here? Isn't it good that Professor Moody is trying to help us get stronger against the curse?"

Harry nodded slightly. Of course, they didn't know the truth—Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr., and his intentions were anything but noble. Still, Harry didn't show any of that on his face. Instead, he addressed the group calmly. "Of course, Professor Moody has the best of intentions in his heart. But as usual, that's why our Duelling Club is here—to help. You have to think about why the Imperius Curse is in the same category as the Killing Curse and Cruciatus. It's not just some ordinary control spell. It's designed to break down a person's will over time."

He paused, making sure everyone was paying attention. A few of the younger students, particularly the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, looked confused but curious. The Slytherins kept quiet, eyes sharp and thoughtful as they waited for Harry to explain further.

"Now, don't get me wrong. The Professor will definitely adjust the intensity when he casts it on us, so it won't tear down your defenses completely. But there's a side effect to the Imperius Curse." Harry leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowing. "The moment you give in—even once—you're marked. You'll always have a weak spot when it comes to that curse. Submit to it once, and there'll always be a crack in your defenses. And trust me, repairing that crack? Nearly impossible."

Astoria, perched on a bench near the front, frowned. "So, if we can't let ourselves submit to it, what are we supposed to do?"

"That's why we're here," Harry said simply. "To make sure you don't. We're going to build an extra layer onto your mental defenses. Think of it like adding another wall behind the first one. Even if the first gets hit, the second will hold."

Susan, who was standing next to Hannah, raised a hand slightly. "How are we supposed to do that? Isn't resisting the Imperius Curse mostly about willpower?"

"Willpower helps, but it's not the only thing," Harry said. He started pacing in front of the group. "Resisting the Imperius is about keeping a clear mind and understanding that the voice trying to control you isn't your own. It's about recognizing the difference between your real thoughts and the ones the curse tries to plant. If you can do that—if you can separate your own instincts from the false ones—you can push back."

"Sounds easy enough," Tracey muttered sarcastically from the back. "Except for the part where someone's messing with your mind."

Harry smirked slightly. "That's why we're practicing. If you've never felt the curse before, the first time will throw you off completely. It's like getting caught in a rip current. You don't realize what's happening until you're halfway out to sea. But once you've been hit by it a few times, you'll know what it feels like, and you'll know how to fight it."

Hermione folded her arms, frowning slightly. "But if resisting is about knowing when you're being influenced, doesn't that mean being cursed repeatedly could wear down your resistance over time?"

Harry nodded. "That is the professor's method. And that's exactly why I think it's important for us to build a second wall."

A student from Hufflepuff asked, "And what's your method?"

Harry turned to the room, his eyes scanning the faces before him. "Occlumency."

The moment he said it, the room fell into a stunned silence. Several students exchanged looks, some of them wide-eyed with disbelief. A few of the younger ones looked confused, but whispers quickly spread through the crowd, filling in the blanks for those who didn't know. The reactions were mixed—shock, doubt, and a fair bit of skepticism.

"You're joking," Tracey muttered, eyeing Harry like he'd lost his mind.

"Occlumency?" Blaise repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You want to teach us that?"

"Yes," Harry said simply, not bothering to elaborate just yet. He leaned back slightly, waiting for the inevitable flood of questions.

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