When Peter heard the word "Wormtail," he froze, terror widening his eyes.
"You… you're the Dark Lord's servant? Did he send you to capture me?" he stammered.
Loren didn't confirm or deny it. He just kept smiling.
"I never betrayed the Dark Lord! You must believe me, master. I've been hiding among the Order of the Phoenix this whole time. I even got close to Harry Potter—I can deliver him at any moment!"
Peter spun another lie, convinced the figure before him wasn't Loren at all, but a Death Eater using Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him.
The pressure on his back eased. He thought he had guessed correctly. This wasn't Loren—it was an agent of the Dark Lord, sent specifically to retrieve him.
"I knew it! The Dark Lord still lives. You've come because he remembers his poor servant, ready to—"
His words broke off as two incantations cut him short.
"Relashio."
"Scourgify."
A cold hand slid across his neck like a serpent, and pain shot through the spot as something was injected into his body. Then his mouth was pried open and a potion forced down his throat.
In truth, Loren was done playing. First, he stripped Peter of resistance with a release spell, then cleaned him—Loren's fastidiousness demanded it. After confirming Peter was spotless, he injected scopolamine into his neck, followed by a modified Veritaserum.
Soon Peter was a puppet, answering every question fully, pouring out every scrap of forbidden knowledge he carried—secrets that normally lay hidden in the Restricted Section.
Only after draining him of information did Loren pause. He didn't dispose of Peter yet. Instead, he fed him a nutrient potion, cast a recovery spell, and pressed a wand into his hand. Then he stepped back to watch.
This would be his test subject. Against peers, Loren needed no wand. Against professors, he had to bide his time until Lockhart's dueling club was founded. But Peter—Peter was expendable.
Within minutes, Peter stirred. He tightened his grip on the wand but stayed limp on the floor, hoping to strike by surprise.
Loren, through his magical sight, saw him gathering magic in his core. He simply watched.
At last, Peter sprang up, wand raised, eyes fixed on Loren.
"Confringo!"
The same spell that had once blown apart a street and framed Sirius Black.
Loren's vision gave no warning; it couldn't harm him. Still, he raised his wand with interest.
"Protego."
The shield charm blocked the blast easily. But Peter wasn't finished—the Confringo had been a feint.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A streak of green light shot toward Loren. His vision flickered in warning, but faintly. Even if it struck, his semi-divine body—shrunken though it was—could endure it.
He didn't take the curse head-on. Instead, he retaliated.
"Crucio."
The curse he had only just learned surged with devastating force, shattering Peter's Killing Curse.
But Peter's instincts were sharp. He had already rolled aside, dodging the Cruciatus, which scorched the place he had been standing.
Loren's smile widened. He flicked his wand again, sending another Cruciatus—but aimed slightly off.
Peter judged it would miss and halted to counterattack.
"Expelliarmus!"
He had to disarm this impostor; only then would he have a chance.
But Loren didn't dodge. He wanted to feel the spell's force.
Before it reached him, Peter screamed. The Cruciatus had struck after all. Loren's spells looked like narrow beams but carried a hidden radius of effect—like an invisible cake with a candle at its center.
The pain was overwhelming. Peter's body convulsed, the wand slipping from his hand as he collapsed, writhing in agony.
Meanwhile, the Disarming Charm barely tugged at Loren's wand. A flick of his wrist, and the pull dissolved.
Watching Peter twitch on the floor, Loren measured his own progress. His raw magical power already surpassed most of the wizarding world—his semi-divine nature ensured that. But his mastery of technique still needed honing.
He ended it with a Stunner, followed by a Memory Charm to erase what had just transpired. He fed Peter another dose of special potion, patched him up, and tossed him into a chamber marked "Observation Room."
Loren retreated behind the enchanted wall, ready to study him further while reviewing the knowledge he had extracted.
The room was built for this: a sealed habitat with everything necessary for life. On the table, Loren had left some "gifts."
The potion soon burned away the Stunner and Cruciatus effects, leaving Peter groggy but awake. Instantly, he shifted into rat form and scurried about.
No windows, just a door with no seam. Escape was impossible.
He searched until he found a wand and a note on the table.
Elated, he transformed back, clutching the battered wand—it still channeled magic, which was enough. He snatched up the note and read:
"You miserable worm. You have passed your master's test. Take up the wand, wear the charm in the drawer, and you may leave this place."
With trembling hands, Peter pulled a talisman from the drawer and hung it around his neck. He opened the door and stepped through—only in his mind.
In truth, the amulet was one of Loren's alchemical creations: the Hypnosis Charm, a subtler cousin of the Imperius Curse. It had already been tested on mindless constructs, but Peter was the first wizard trial.
Loren, through his magical sight, observed the flow of power in Peter's body and noted down improvements.
Peter would serve an important role. Some inventions Loren could test on himself or friends, but dangerous ones required a disposable subject. And Peter was perfect.
Beyond that, Loren planned to use his identity to steal the Philosopher's Stone. After all, in the underworld, one always needed a mask.
As for the real Peter—he would remain in Loren's space, an experimental subject for both alchemy and magic.
A glance at the clock showed it was only half past ten. Plenty of time before lunch.
There was work to do: conditioning, brainwashing, perfecting methods. Pure magic left traces and could be undone. But science, reinforced with potions and spells, would hold.
It would take time. Loren smiled. He had his hands full for the foreseeable future.
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