Aurelian lowered his hand and the mansion's defenses opened like a silk curtain, allowing the guest to enter.
"Come in," Aurelian said with a nod. "He's in the main hall."
Barty Crouch Jr. crossed the threshold with slow, somewhat nervous steps, his eyes darting frantically to take in every detail of the Gothic architecture and magic that permeated Gaunt Manor. To him, this was not simply the home of his master's son; it was a temple. He walked behind Aurelian through the hallways, wiping the remaining blood from the corner of his mouth and smoothing his ugly robe in an attempt to look presentable.
When they reached the living room, the small, misshapen figure of Lord Voldemort was still sitting in the armchair in front of the fire, although he had now turned slightly upon sensing his son's arrival.
Voldemort's eyes fell on the newcomer and a genuine spark of surprise crossed his face.
"Bartemius," hissed Voldemort, his raspy voice thick with disbelief. "I thought you were dead. The reports said you died in Azkaban a few years ago."
The moment he heard his master's voice, Barty dropped to his knees with a thud. He crawled a few feet until he was near Voldemort's feet, his head bowed in absolute submission.
"Never, my Lord!" Barty exclaimed fervently, looking up with eyes moist with devotion. "My body was imprisoned, but my mind was clear. I was certain I was still alive. I never stopped believing, I was just waiting for the right moment."
"Explain yourself," ordered Voldemort. "How did you escape the Dementors?"
"My Lord, it was my father," Barty spat the word with venom. "He and my... weak mother. She was dying and loved me more than anything. They used the Polyjuice Potion. She took my place in the cell to die there with my face, and my father smuggled me out."
Barty clenched his fists, trembling with rage.
"My Lord. My father... that hypocrite, kept me prisoner in his house. Under an Invisibility Cloak and the care of a house elf. Under the Imperius Curse. Years... years trapped in my own mind, seeing the world through a fog. But I never forgot. I fought every day because I knew you would return, and a few days ago I was finally able to escape."
Voldemort nodded slowly, pleased. The willpower required to break an Imperius Curse after years was extraordinary.
"You have suffered for my sake, Barty. You have proven once again to be one of my strongest followers. Your loyalty will be rewarded."
Barty smiled, beaming at the praise. He stood up, feeling revitalized. It was then that his gaze shifted to the figure standing behind the sofa where Voldemort sat, watching the scene in stoic silence.
Nagini.
The exotic woman, with her dark dress and mysterious aura, looked at him curiously.
Barty's eyes widened. Amidst his madness and fanaticism, something more primitive and human ignited in his brain. Without thinking twice and with his characteristic impulsiveness, Barty took two quick strides and took Nagini's hand in his.
"By Morgana!" Barty exclaimed, looking at Nagini as if she were a goddess among men. "Who are you, beautiful lady?"
Nagini blinked, surprised by the sudden contact and the intensity of the man in front of her. She looked at Voldemort for instructions, but receiving no orders from him, she replied in her soft, sibilant voice.
"My name is Nagini."
"Nagini," Barty repeated, savoring the name. "A beautiful name for the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Are you perhaps an angel of death sent to guide us?"
Nagini tilted her head, confused, not understanding the metaphor.
"I was a Maledictus," she explained simply. "The Master saved me. He gave me back my true form."
Barty's smile widened even more. He turned to Voldemort and then looked back at Nagini with adoration, something that bordered on the comical.
"Of course!" Barty shouted. "Of course my lord would save you! He is the most powerful, benevolent, and just wizard who has ever walked the earth! Only someone with his infinite mercy and genius could rescue such beauty from that ugly curse. It is destiny!"
Without letting go of her hand, Barty leaned down and planted a long kiss on Nagini's knuckles, ignoring the dirt and blood that still stained his own face.
"It is an honor to breathe the same air as you, my lady," he murmured against her skin.
Nagini stood still, her eyes slightly open, looking at the man in complete bewilderment. She didn't know whether to pull her hand away or smile at the compliments. Her social experience was limited, and this wizard was... very intense.
A few steps away, Aurelian had to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh. The scene was absurd: a psychopathic killer flirting with a former snake while praising the "benevolence" of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort, however, did not find it so amusing. His eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"Bartemius," Voldemort said coldly, "stop bothering Nagini. She is not someone you can use for your amusement."
Barty instantly let go of Nagini's hand and took a step back, bowing deeply.
"Forgive me! Forgive me, my Lord! Forgive me, Lady Nagini!" he apologized frantically. "I got carried away in the heat of the moment. I didn't mean to offend you," he smiled weakly.
Nagini nodded slowly, rubbing her hand where he had kissed it, still looking at him strangely.
Barty returned to his submissive position in front of Voldemort, but as he lowered his head, his eyes strayed once more toward her. In Barty Crouch Jr.'s crazy, obsessive mind, a new directive had been engraved alongside "Serve the Dark Lord."
"She's perfect," Barty thought, with steely determination. "Pretty, shy, and beautiful. Someday... someday I'll have her, I swear."
If Lord Voldemort's arrival had made life at the Gaunt manor surreal, the addition of Barty Crouch Jr. had turned it into a comedy.
Aurelian, reclining in his leather armchair in front of his television, chuckled softly as he recalled the last few days. Since that first chaotic night, Barty had undergone a... radical metamorphosis in his entire being.
He no longer looked like a maniacal vagrant who had just escaped from a dungeon. Now Barty strolled through the halls wearing impeccably cut silk robes, silver-embroidered vests, and dragon-skin boots polished to a mirror shine. His straw-colored hair, once tousled and dirty, was now combed back with an aristocratic slick and smelled of sandalwood.
According to him, if he was going to serve the Dark Lord and court his muse, he had to look like the pure-blood wizard he was.
The problem was that Barty wanted everyone to follow his example.
"Aurelian, for Morgana's sake," Barty's voice interrupted Aurelian's game of Crash Bandicoot.
The Invoker stood in the doorway, looking down his nose at the console and the clothes Aurelian was wearing.
"That muggle light box again?" Barty scolded, smoothing the sheet on Aurelian's bed with a wave of his hand. "You are the Dark Prince, Lord Gaunt. You should be reading ancient grimoires or practicing dueling, not making an orange marsupial jump around on a screen. A prince does not surround himself with such Muggle trash. You have an image to uphold, young master."
Aurelian didn't even turn around. He kept his eyes fixed on the television as his thumbs pounded the buttons on the controller. Freeing his left hand for a second, he raised his middle finger toward the door in one of the universal rude gestures.
"Fuck off, Barty," Aurelian said calmly. "And close the door behind you. You're letting in too much air."
Barty snorted, offended by the lack of etiquette, muttering something about "the youth of today and their lack of class" before leaving with a dramatic swirl of his cloak. Aurelian smiled sidelong. Barty might be quite a character, but he was harmless to him.
Most surprising, Barty's transformation really shone not in his dress, but in his treatment of Nagini.
It was fascinating to watch them.
The Barty who shouted spells and tortured people disappeared when she entered the room. He became gentle, attentive, and surprisingly charming.
Aurelian had seen them in the garden one morning. Nagini was sitting on a bench looking at the flowers with curiosity, Barty was beside her, always keeping a respectful distance. He didn't overwhelm her. He spoke to her in a calm voice, telling her stories about the history of magic in Britain or explaining how certain plants worked, treating her like a lady of high society.
"And that's the story of why witches and some wizards like to wear pointy hats," Barty would say, making gentle gestures with his hands.
Nagini listened attentively, and Aurelian saw her laugh. It was a shy, clear laugh. Her eyes, which used to be full of confusion or caution in Barty's presence, now sparkled with interest. She asked him questions, and he responded with infinite patience to everything she said, making her feel valued and intelligent.
Aurelian, watching from the second-floor window with a glass of Coca-Cola in his hand that Stinky had just handed him, had to admit it.
"The bastard has style," he muttered to himself with some admiration.
Barty was achieving what he thought was impossible. He was teaching Nagini to become human again through his kindness, filling the gaps that Voldemort, in his egocentricity or disinterest, ignored.
"If his plan is to make her fall in love with him," thought Aurelian, watching Barty offer his arm to Nagini to help her up and her accept it with a blushing smile, "he's doing a very good job."
Aurelian's office had been turned into a makeshift war room.
Stinky had left a silver tray with chocolate chip cookies and tea on a side table, and Peter Pettigrew was not wasting the opportunity. The human rat ate voraciously, stuffing his mouth with two cookies at a time and dropping crumbs on the carpet as he looked around with watery eyes.
From the sofa opposite, Barty watched the spectacle with a deep grimace of disgust. He was sitting next to Nagini, maintaining an elegant and protective posture, as if he wanted to shield the lady from Peter's rude display.
"It's unbelievable," Barty muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward Nagini. "Even when he eats, he can't stop looking like a rodent. He lacks any kind of grace."
Nagini nodded slightly, picking up her teacup with a delicacy that mimicked the movements Barty had taught her, completely ignoring Pettigrew.
In the center of the room, seated in an armchair raised by magic to be at the same height as the others, Lord Voldemort stared intently at his son, who was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.
"Everything is ready," Voldemort began to explain, his voice dominating the room. "This year, Hogwarts will host the Triwizard Tournament. It's our best chance. Security measures will focus on foreigners, not local students."
Voldemort paused, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"I want Potter to enter the tournament and win it. He must be the one to touch the Triwizard Cup at the end of the tournament. I have prepared a spell to turn the Cup into a Portkey. It will bring him directly to the cemetery in Little Hangleton, where I will use it to regain my body."
Voldemort turned his head toward Barty.
"I was thinking of sending you, Barty. I need someone inside the castle to manipulate the Goblet of Fire and guide the boy through the trials without him suspecting anything. You could impersonate a professor... or perhaps a Ministry official."
Barty straightened up, ready to accept the mission.
"It would be an honor, my Lord. I..."
"Not necessary," Aurelian interrupted calmly.
All eyes turned to him. Aurelian smiled confidently at everyone.
"We don't need to risk Barty in a year-long infiltration under Dumbledore's nose. It's better for Barty to focus on getting back to his best."
Aurelian rose from his desk and walked toward his father.
"I'll take care of Potter," Aurelian said. "I'm already inside the castle. I'm some kind of 'King of Slytherin.' I'll get him into the tournament and make sure he gets that cup in the end. No one will suspect the model student who helped the school capture a dangerous criminal."
Voldemort looked at his son for a long moment. He evaluated the proposal, searching for flaws, but found none. However, instead of the Dark Lord's usual indifference, a shadow of concern crossed his features.
"Dumbledore and who knows who else will be watching," said Voldemort, his tone having a warm undertone that surprised both Peter and Barty. "The tournament is dangerous in itself. I know you are strong, Aurelian. But... be careful. Don't expose yourself unnecessarily to help the boy."
Aurelian blinked, surprised once again by his father's sudden affection. He held his gaze and offered him a warm smile.
"Don't worry, Dad. Everything is under control." He smiled even more broadly.
Voldemort nodded, visibly calmer now that he had his son's assurance.
From the sofa, Barty Crouch Jr. watched the interaction in silence. He saw the tension in his Master's shoulders melt away at Aurelian's smile. He saw the pride and affection in eyes that had once promised only death.
"Who would have thought?" Barty thought, taking a sip of his tea as he glanced sideways at Nagini. "Many would think that love is a weakness, but seeing this... having a child has done the Dark Lord a world of good."
Barty smiled to himself. The wizarding world had no idea what was coming.
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