Aerith stretched her body, “Not what I was expecting when I asked you to make out with me.”

“Not what I was expecting too.”

“Let’s go back before anyone gets suspicious,” Tifa planned to teleport when she stopped, “Wait…doesn’t Transfiguration work differently for them than it works for you and Cloud? You use the planet’s energy to skim slight rules, and Cloud uses Jenova’s and Keyblade’s power to do the same. But if I want to transfigure, even into my adult self, I would need my hair. Which is impossible.”

“And?”

“For Junior to be Moody…”

“He needs Moody alive,” Cloud narrowed his eyes, “And in Hogwarts. Not many places you could hide him.”

“Like that trunk, he dragged over at the beginning of the year?”

“Hah,” Aerith puffed out a long breath, narrowing her eyes, “He’s bold…He is so bold that I like him. Sadly…he chose the wrong side here.”

“Let’s just tell Dumbledore all this and wash our hands of the problem,” Cloud opened the System Window, ready to teleport.

“Cloud, he’s targeting Aerith too!”

“Then, just quit.”

“I am not retiring!”

“So annoying,” Cloud scratched his head, “Fine. Can we go?”

Aerith licked her lips, “Someone’s frustrated.”

“Yeah, I am going,” Cloud teleported, and Aerith giggled.

Tifa suppressed her laugh, “Why do you tease him so much? He’s going to get angry one day.”

“Huh, I wonder what he’d do if he does get angry,” Aerith bit her lip, causing Tifa to roll her eyes, “You….”

The two of them appeared in the Forbidden Forest, and Cloud was waiting there, unable to hide the slight blush. Usually, he would have left, but he was careful since there was a threat.

The three of them avoided Hagrid; ever since the day of the Second Task, he was easy to cry and usually hugged them while crying every chance he got.

So, they wanted to wait until he was over this phase of his life. While passing there, they got to see the Titan statue that Aerith created during the second task. Unlike Bahamut and Leviathan, this was more permanent, like a Golem.

Soon, they found themselves face to face with the statue that hid the stairs, and Cloud used the Keyblade to open it without the password. When they entered Dumbledore’s office, his face was near the entrance, waiting for them, “What might be so urgent that you had forcefully entered my office?”

“We found Mr. Crouch roaming around, chaotic, nearly insane, and there is a high chance that he was subjected to Unforgivable Curses. Imperio, very likely, to force Harry to participate.”

Aerith continued where Tifa left, “His son, one of Voldemort’s followers. He kept his son at home, broke through Imperio Curse, and likely was the one who got to his father.”

Cloud was waiting for them to finish when he saw them look at him and sighed, shrugging, “He’s here. Using Polyjuice potion, working as Moody, but that means Moody is likely in that trunk he brought at the start of the year.”

Dumbledore watched them, nodding, “Certainly, an emergency on all counts. You said you found Mr. Crouch? Where is he?”

“We had our house-elf, Winky. The one who used to work for Mr. Crouch. She took him over to our house in America.”

“Ah, a distant place to travel at a time like this,” Dumbledore walked back to the table, “Do you know Sirius is nearby? Meet him, and he will take you to an address. Unplottable, but I’d prefer if you could bring Mr. Crouch to that location. Can you?”

“Yeah,” Tifa nodded.

“Headmaster…is there a cure…to recover a person from the effects of Imperio?”

“I am saddened to say that there is no cure. Some recover…many don’t. The scars of such experience remain forever.”

“Not if I can help it!” Aerith puffed her cheeks, “Cloud, find a solution.”

“Shut up; it can’t be solved. Not even Merlin can help it.”

“Why not?” Tifa blinked. When it came to dark magic, Cloud was the most accomplished among them. He was great at everyday, neutral magic, but when it came to Dark Magic, it came naturally to him. His understanding of it far surpassed their own, so if he said it couldn’t be solved, there must be a reason.

Dumbledore watched them with piqued interest; he observed Cloud, wondering what his answer would be.

Cloud summoned the metallic, pitch-black wand with two holes near the tip and swiped it horizontally. Much like a stream flowing, a green light appeared, “This is memory and mind.”

“Use Killing Curse,” Cloud tapped, and it disappeared, “no injury, no nothing, gone.”

He swiped again, “Use Mind Controlling Curse long enough...”

The stream started bending upward from one side and abruptly turned, more and more, on itself, forcing something that looked like a woolen ball.

"Use Cruciatus Curse.”

He tapped on the puzzled ball of stream, which cracked along the stream, “This is what you end up with. Uncurable. Irreversible. Unforgivable.”

Dumbledore nodded, shaking his head in pity and sadness, “An apt description. It’s as he says. All we can do…is make sure they are not a threat to themselves and others.”

“But…” Tifa took out her wand, tapping on the ball, and it broke apart, reforming into a straight line, “If it’s you. You can do this, right?”

“Won’t change a thing. It would kill him anyway. Those memories would be there, but they would form anew. It would be like a blank card has been pasted with those memories, forming something new entirely.”

Aerith blinked, looking at Cloud, “We can…also do that.”

“Do what?”

“You know…use ‘them’ as storage, and form a correct memory, right sequence, and your voice could guide him. From his real memory, we can erase this part, the last year, and put it in the new memory. It would be like an out-of-body experience, he would see himself doing things and being tortured, but the mental breakdown that comes with it won’t be there. Now, he can solve other parts in time, but that gives him hope, right?”

“Do you hear yourself talking,” Cloud furrowed his brows, “What you are saying involves human experimentation, and even if we succeed…”

He glanced toward Dumbledore and didn’t say anything, “There is no way that will work. Forget it. You can’t save everyone, Aerith.”

He stopped leaning on the wall, turning away to leave when Dumbledore spoke up, “I think I got most parts of it and an ingenious idea. Suppose you could find a way to implant that memory and will part, which you seem to have an idea of. Mr. Strife, it does give hope to many.”

“Yeah, heard that before…all for the better future, for hope…for the Promised Land. I have no interest in that…and you were the last person I expected to suggest it,” Cloud gave Aerith a look, leaving the office.

“Eri,” Tifa gently put her arm around Aerith’s waist, hugging her, so she could hide her hurt to look, stroking her head, “I’ll smack him.”

Aerith shook her head, closing her eyes, “I’ll talk to him myself.”

She pulled away, giving a strained grin, “The address? Headmaster?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded, “Will you be ok?”

Aerith nodded, pressing her lips, “I will be. Soon. Once I teach Cloud a lesson.”

Dumbledore smiled, giving them the address, “Hope…it’s precious…to those who need it…and more to the loved ones. They too wish for hope.”

“I know…” Aerith muttered, glancing towards Tifa, “We know.”

“Very well, then. I will leave you to it, and if possible, try not to give it away that we are onto him?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

Tifa was about to leave with Aerith when she remembered something, “It’s the Trophy. That will act as the Portkey…I think that’s their endgame.”

“Ah…” Dumbledore thought, nodding, “Then be careful. Make sure you don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Yeah,” Tifa walked down the stairs, and at the bottom, they found Cloud waiting, “I thought you were angry.”

He didn’t answer her but leaned there, his eyes closed, waiting for them to move so he could walk after them.

Aerith walked up to him, cupping his cheek, making him open his eyes, “Let’s talk.”

“Not interested.”

“About me. Let’s talk. Ok?”

“Ok,” Cloud blinked, nodding at her.