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Barty Jr was one of the few who truly understood Voldemort.
Pure lies would never fool those sharp, venomous eyes. Voldemort would use Legilimency without hesitation, probing his mind while watching every flicker of expression.
So Barty's strategy was simple: tell the truth.
Just not all of it.
He would reveal everything that could be told, openly and honestly. As for the rest, he'd leave gaps for Voldemort to fill in himself. People trusted conclusions they arrived at on their own far more than anything they were directly told.
His gravely ill mother secretly switching places with him in Azkaban… His father controlling him for years with the Imperius Curse… His gradual resistance, built through sheer willpower, until he finally broke free…
Every part of it was true.
To make it convincing, Barty had even gone through the act himself, playing along with Grindelwald. He had been returned to the Crouch household, placed under the Imperius Curse, and then clawed his way free through his own strength. That was why it had taken him so long to find Voldemort.
Sure enough, as Barty spoke, Voldemort kept his gaze locked on him. Those slit-like snake eyes flickered, Legilimency pouring out unchecked.
The narrow pupils contracted slightly as fragments of memory were verified. Gradually, satisfaction crept into Voldemort's gaze.
As expected of one of his most loyal servants. Even after everything he'd endured, his loyalty hadn't wavered.
What pleased Voldemort even more was Barty's hatred toward his father. It struck a chord instantly. They shared something in common: fathers who had brought them shame.
Looking down at Barty, who lay prostrate at his feet, Voldemort's red eyes gleamed with calculation.
Perhaps, in time, he could guide this boy down the same path… and have him personally erase the source of that disgrace.
Yet from an angle Voldemort couldn't see, the fervor had already drained from Barty's face, replaced by a cold, frozen indifference.
Did he still hate his father?
Of course he did.
But the nature of that hatred had changed.
Now, his father held a higher place in Grindelwald's regard than he did. That was something he could never accept.
Barty swore silently that he would become Grindelwald's most trusted right hand, his most loyal hound, completely overshadowing his father.
"Stand up, child." Voldemort's tone softened. He bent slightly, patting Barty on the shoulder before turning to the window. Sunlight streamed in harshly, casting his silhouette in a dark, brooding outline.
"You've come at the right time. I'm certain your father won't publicize your disappearance. Barty, you're safe. I need you to return to the Three Isles and gather intelligence for me."
Barty's fist clenched instantly, knuckles turning white.
A curse rose in his chest.
He had just managed to infiltrate, hadn't even had a sip of water yet, and now he was being sent right back?
What kind of nonsense was this?
After everything it took to get here, and you're sending me back?!
"My Lord… you're not planning to take revenge?" Barty forced his emotions back under control, quickly putting on a mix of confusion and anger. "Dumbledore is already on his last legs. And now some upstart kid, Tom Riddle, is strutting around like he owns the place."
"As long as you step forward, no one in the world could stand against you."
Voldemort's pale face twitched.
Fortunately, his back was to Barty and Bellatrix, hiding the shift in his expression.
An aging Dumbledore? A mere upstart, Tom Riddle?
Did you even hear yourself just now?
Did he think living in seclusion meant Voldemort knew nothing about recent events?
Dumbledore was more terrifying than ever. The man who once stayed quietly within Hogwarts had gone as far as America, killing without hesitation. And this fool dared to call him old?
As for that "upstart" Tom Riddle… Voldemort had already "died" once at his hands. Even now, the memory of that pillar of starlight descending from the sky sent a chill through him.
Either one of them alone was a nightmare to deal with.
And this idiot wanted him to face both?
A treacherous flatterer.
Voldemort was so furious he almost fired a Killing Curse at Barty on the spot. But he couldn't show anything. Not anger, not hesitation, certainly not fear. If his followers sensed weakness, everything would start to fall apart.
"Barty, my child… you underestimate Dumbledore."
After a moment's thought, Voldemort decided to shift the blame onto Dumbledore. Better to fear an old man than admit he was wary of a kid.
"You don't understand how insidious that old man is. Yes, he's over a hundred years old, but what does age even mean to a wizard?"
He flicked his sleeve with an air of pride. "I've gone further than anyone on the path to immortality. Dumbledore is no less formidable. Don't forget his unique bond with the phoenix. He may look frail, but his body and will are still at their peak."
"But there's no need to rush. I've already found a way to grow stronger. Since my resurrection, my magic has surpassed what it once was."
Barty's heart stirred as he remembered the second task Grindelwald had given him.
"My Lord… I know of a certain treasure. It might be of use to you," he said cautiously.
Voldemort frowned slightly. "What treasure?"
"Tom Riddle once came to see my father." Noticing Voldemort's expression darken at the name, Barty pressed on. "That useless man of mine threw away all dignity for power and pledged himself to Riddle. He's working for him now. One night, Riddle came to our house. I was in the dungeon, but the dining room wasn't far from the entrance. I heard everything clearly."
"Riddle ordered my father to use his position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation to contact wizards from various countries and search for an artifact called the Tear of Isis…"
"What?!"
Voldemort shot to his feet, dark energy surging around him as he stared at Barty in disbelief.
"You're saying Tom Riddle is searching for the Tear of Isis?"
"Y-yes." Barty nodded quickly, putting on a frightened look. "My father contacted many people, but found nothing. Riddle has already scolded him several times. He seems… very anxious."
Hearing this, Voldemort's expression didn't improve. It grew even darker.
The more urgent Tom was, the more it meant he had already uncovered the secret behind the Tear of Isis.
But how was that possible?
Voldemort himself had only learned of those artifacts through a series of rare coincidences. What gave that boy the right?
At that moment, Bellatrix delivered the perfect assist.
"The Tear of Isis? Isn't that the treasure Riddle stole from you, my Lord?"
A strange flush flickered across Voldemort's face, a mix of embarrassment and anger.
Not a single one of his subordinates was reliable. One was pushing him to go fight Dumbledore and Tom Riddle immediately, the other was digging up his humiliating past.
Could this get any worse?
Under Barty's shocked gaze, and with Bellatrix as a witness, he had no choice but to nod, forcing out an explanation. "Yes… at the time, I hadn't fully regained my strength. Tom Riddle ambushed me dishonorably and took it."
Barty flew into a rage. "Damn it! I'll go to Hogwarts right now and kill him!"
"Don't be reckless, Barty." Voldemort's cold hand pressed him back into his seat, his eyes gleaming. "The information you've brought is valuable. I need you to return even more now. Keep watch on your father. The moment there's any news about the Tear of Isis, report it to me immediately."
"Yes, my Lord." Barty nodded without hesitation. Then, after a brief pause, curiosity crept into his voice. "My Lord… what exactly is this treasure? Why is Riddle so desperate for it?"
Whenever Voldemort felt his authority waver, he would embellish his own importance to reinforce it.
This time was no exception.
"You don't need to know the details," Voldemort said coolly. "It is an artifact left behind by Herpo for his successor. Riddle is unworthy of it. In this world, only I have the right to wield it. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Barty lowered his head at once, though a glint flashed in his eyes.
Herpo… Herpo the Foul?
So it was connected to the progenitor of dark wizards in history.
On his very first day, he had already gained such valuable information. Barty couldn't help but feel that it wouldn't take long before he stripped Voldemort of all his secrets.
While everything was progressing smoothly on Barty's side, the second "nail" Tom had planted also began to take effect.
Robert Graves appeared openly inside the Woolworth Building, accompanied by the long-missing President of MACUSA, Samuel G. Quahog.
The moment they showed up, it caused an uproar.
One was a wanted fugitive. The other, a high-ranking official who had vanished without a trace.
What kind of bizarre combination was this?
Within moments, dozens of well-trained Aurors surrounded them. But with Quahog possibly being held hostage, no one dared make the first move.
The situation fell into a tense standoff.
.
.
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