Crossing the gate, Barty Crouch Jr. entered the hall of the house. He took in a moment to register the presence of the hideous child or, more appropriately, the hideous creature seated on the chair in front of him. His eyes widened in shock as he realised that this creature was none other than the Dark Lord.
The disgusting, hateful, childlike and yet filthy, appearance of his powerful Dark Lord was too much for him to bear. It was hard to believe what he was seeing from his own eyes.
Crouch Jr. collapsed to his knees and mumbled in a distraught tone, "My lord…"
Voldemort had very much expected this kind of reaction and was not particularly surprised by it. Voldemort himself hated his pathetic and powerless state.
The state he had been reduced to since that fateful day. How could he not abhor it? And his new appearance was like rubbing more salt on his wound.
But even so, he could not appear weak in front of another loyal servant, especially one who was capable. Capable enough to execute the plan he had been setting up for his grand and glorious return.
He could not afford to lose the faith that his Death Eaters still had in him.
"Shocked, Barty?" asked Voldemort with a small laugh.
"My lord…" was all that Barty could muster. How could he speak of the disgust he was feeling from the Dark Lord's appearance?
"Do not fret over these trivial things, Barty," Voldemort remarked in a nonchalant voice.
"Trivial things?" Barty questioned instinctively, unable to stop himself.
Although Voldemort despised being questioned back in such a manner, he kept his composure.
"Yes, Barty," he replied. "Trivial."
"In the path to achieving great things, it is not very surprising to face a few ups and downs."
"I may have been reduced to this state," he continued. "But I have not lost. I still have my powers. And no one can yet kill me."
"This one failure, one setback was set in my destiny and despite all the obstacles I am still here. I am still alive and preparing to mark my return."
"This time, when I mark my rise," he said, "no one will have the capability to stop me. No one means no one."
"Yes, my lord," Barty said, his eyes brightening at the thought of the prospect of the future.
Having already been thoroughly brainwashed by Voldemort, convincing him of his master's greatness again was not a difficult task.
"Only a few more days and one more task," continued Voldemort. "Then I will have my full powers."
"Yes, my lord," Barty nodded fervently, his confidence in the Dark Lord fully restored.
"Tell me, Barty," Voldemort asked. "How did you find Peter?"
"And more importantly, how are you still alive?" he questioned.
Although Voldemort, using the Dark Mark, had already confirmed that nothing was wrong with Barty Crouch Jr. and that no one was controlling his mind and Crouch Jr. was acting of his own free will, his sudden appearance with Peter still caused unease in his mind.
After all, Barty Crouch Jr. had been supposed to be dead for the past seventeen years. And Voldemort could not ignore the instinct of his unease he had been feeling.
(If you are still confused about 17 years, remember that Harry is already 18 and Hogwarts starts at 14. So, 17 years have passed since Voldemort had been vanquished by Harry Potter on the night of Halloween.)
"My lord," Barty replied. "I was not dead. My father had kept me alive for the last seventeen years."
After this, Barty narrated to Voldemort how his father had rescued him from prison and kept him constantly under the Imperius Curse.
"My lord," said Barty, "I would have come to find you as soon as I was out of Azkaban."
"But my father," he continued, venom dripping from his voice. "He believed that you were never going to return and kept me locked up by force."
"But during the Quidditch World Cup final, I was jolted out of the Imperius Curse and escaped from there."
"I did not know where or how to find you," he said. "Hence, I decided to escape from Magical Britain and hide somewhere until I could gather some information or connect with my former Death Eaters."
"But it seems fate would have it otherwise," he sighed. "The first night after I escaped, I spotted Peter Pettigrew stealing food from an inn."
If only he knew that it was not fate. It was Harry Potter.
"And here I am, my lord," said Barty, a big smile spreading across his face.
Voldemort, though still feeling a slight unease, nonetheless nodded. Maybe I finally have fate on my side, he thought to himself, trying to soothe his doubts. After all it had only been because of fate that he had been vanquished by a little toddler.
"About that last task you mentioned, my lord," Barty asked hesitantly. Even though he still believed in the greatness of the Dark Lord, he could not help but feel uneasy seeing him in such a pathetic state.
"Yes, Barty," said Voldemort. "To once again wield my full powers, I need to reconstruct my body. I need a new body."
Barty's eyes brightened at this, thinking that even creating a new body was not impossible for his Dark Lord.
"While there are quite a few methods for this," Voldemort continued, "there is one ritual that will make me even more powerful than I was at my peak."
"What is that, my lord?" Barty asked eagerly. The phrase even more powerful than at his peak had sent shivers through Barty's body.
"Well, the ritual is not impossible or even particularly difficult, but there is one particular thing I need for it and it has no substitute," he said.
"What?" Barty asked.
"Harry Potter," replied Voldemort.
Barty's eyes widened.
"Har…ry… Potter," he stammered. "But would he not be inside Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's protection?"
Even at the peak of their powers, they had never dared to invade Hogwarts.
"He will be," replied Voldemort. "But we will have an opportunity in a few months."
"Hogwarts is going to host the Triwizard Cup," said Voldemort, as he went further into the details of his plan.
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