Chapter 143
Thick smoke billowed across the doorway of the cell after the violent blast shattered it.
When the smoke finally cleared, the true cause of the chaos stood revealed before the prisoner.
The prisoner exclaimed, "Lucius Malfoy?! What are you doing here, man?!"
Lucius coughed several times from the heavy smoke that filled the chamber, before stepping cautiously inside.
"Cough cough! I've come to get you out of here, Barty Crouch Jr.!"
Crouch Jr. burst into wild, manic laughter the moment he heard Lucius's words.
"Hahahaha! Did I hear that correctly? Lucius the arrogant has come to rescue me? Why now, and not when I was first thrown into this wretched prison?!"
Lucius brushed the dust from his robes as he listened, remaining calm despite the mockery.
Finally, he said, "Last night… I dreamed of the Dark Lord."
Barty fell silent instantly, his expression shifting.
"And? What happened?" he demanded.
Lucius's voice grew heavy. "In the dream I was bound to a wall. The Dark Lord tortured me… because I had done nothing to bring about his return. He commanded me to help you escape Azkaban. Then, he vanished."
Crouch Jr. listened intently. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed again, running his tongue over his lips in that disturbing habit of his.
"Hahaha! The Dark Lord loves me even in dreams! So that's how it is! But Lucius… it isn't like you to place your faith in a dream."
Lucius clutched his temples. "Yes. At first I ignored it. After all, there was little chance of the Dark Lord ever returning. But then my wife Narcissa… she too dreamed the very same dream, on the very same night."
Crouch Jr.'s eyes widened in astonishment.
"That means… the Dark Lord has an urgent plan for his return! Hahaha! He's close so very close!"
Lucius frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean, Crouch?"
Barty nearly revealed the truth that Voldemort was alive, though terribly weak but he caught himself. He grew tense, realizing he had almost betrayed the Dark Lord's secret.
For in truth, five years before his imprisonment in Azkaban, Barty Crouch Jr. had discovered the Dark Lord's pitiful, broken form. Voldemort, nearly destroyed after the incident with Harry Potter thirteen years earlier, was little more than a grotesque thing: the head of a man upon a body with tiny, infant-like arms.
During that time, Voldemort had sought hosts bodies to possess so that he might drink the blood of unicorns and cling to a shred of strength. But when one of those hosts perished, Voldemort was forced to flee.
It was then that Crouch Jr., utterly devoted, encountered him in the remote countryside of Britain. He alone was entrusted with Voldemort's confidence, and together they began weaving a plan for the Dark Lord's glorious return.
Yet much was still missing.
Back in the present, realizing he had almost revealed too much, Crouch forced a smile and quickly changed the subject. "Enough talk! Just break these chains before the Dementors return!"
Lucius ignored his slip. All that mattered to him now was obeying the dream-command of the Dark Lord.
He freed Crouch Jr. from his shackles.
"We'll meet at the house we've used before," Lucius said firmly.
He pressed his fingers to the Dark Mark etched into his left arm. In an instant, black smoke swirled and he vanished.
Crouch did the same, disappearing in a cloud of dark mist.
The truth was this: it had not been mere dreams. Voldemort himself had invaded the minds of both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.
Before the First Wizarding War, he had branded his loyal Death Eaters with the Dark Mark upon their left arms. Through it, he could summon any servant or even force his way into their minds to plant memories and visions.
This was how he had shown both Lucius and Narcissa the vision: the command to free Crouch Jr. from Azkaban.
Elsewhere…
In a desolate region…
The land was barren, lifeless, as if a great war had ravaged it. The houses lay in ruins, empty shells of stone.
Suddenly, black smoke coiled through the air, descending upon one of the derelict homes.
Moments later, two figures materialized within the newly freed Crouch Jr. and Lucius Malfoy.
Crouch broke the silence first. "Well, then. What is it that you brought me here to say in such secrecy?"
Lucius turned to a large chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, visibly uneasy.
"The prophecy… has changed."
Crouch froze, shocked. He drew closer, his interest piqued at once.
"What do you mean, changed? Tell me everything!" he demanded, his voice trembling with manic excitement.
Lucius hesitated. He had not expected such a reaction. Still, he pressed on.
"Everyone knows the story: Harry Potter, the boy who killed the Dark Lord when he was only a child…"
At those words, Crouch's face twisted with rage. The very notion that Voldemort had been defeated by Harry Potter was an insult he could not bear.
Lucius raised a calming hand. "Listen. The world believes Harry is the Chosen One, the boy of prophecy. But… there is another."
Crouch leaned in, eyes wide. "Another…?"
Lucius nodded grimly. "Yes. A second child, far stronger than Harry. If the Dark Lord returns, it may not be Harry who destroys him… but this other boy of prophecy."
Crouch went utterly still, his mind racing.
For years, he had known the prophecy: two children, born at the same time, to parents who had defied the Dark Lord. One of them would have the power to vanquish him.
But never never had he imagined this.
Perhaps Harry Potter was not the only threat to the Dark Lord's reign. Perhaps this oth
er boy was far more dangerous.
To be continued…