In the underground chamber, deep beneath layers of soil and stone, the room was surprisingly warm—as pleasant as an early spring day in the countryside. This unnatural warmth came from the flames in the crudely carved fireplace, creating an atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the bitter winter cold that gripped the world above.
Under the wavering yellowish-brown light casted by several crudely shaped iron candelabras—plates of arranged food on the wooden dinner table gave tempting aromas that wafted through the musty underground air. Though this dinner scene appeared cozy and almost normal at first glance, Cliodna's heart was filled with a bone-chilling coldness.
In the dense forests of Albania, she had spent some time with Voldemort. During those days and nights, she had come to know with terrifying familiarity that this Dark Lord—feared to the bones by even the most powerful wizards of the Wizarding world—had transformed into a monster that no longer bore even the faintest resemblance to anything human.
She had witnessed personally, Voldemort's merciless interrogation of Bertha Jorkins—experiencing up close his cruel techniques and complete absolute disregard for human life. And now, in the deranged devotion of Barty Crouch Jr., she had seen yet another terrifying side of Voldemort's poisonous influence—how he could corrupt and twist even the minds of those from the most well-thought of wizarding families.
"Let me serve you, Master—" Barty's voice trickled with worship that made Cliodna's skin crawl with disgust.
The lowly house-elf, trembling in the shadows, was deemed not qualified to feed the Dark Lord.
During these past few days, that sacred privilege had fallen exclusively to Barty Crouch Jr. He now half-knelt beside Voldemort's chair in a posture of worship, tying a napkin around his master's neck with feminine gentleness that seemed grotesquely at odds with the blood still clinging beneath his fingernails. His bloodless face glowed with radiance, like the most devout believer.
This twisted, fanatical devotion, combined with Barty Crouch Jr.'s slightly bulging, heated eyes that scurried continuously between Voldemort's face and his own hands, perfectly embodied the definition of complete madness!
"Oh, my faithful Barty, what would I possibly do without your care during these challenging days?" Voldemort's cold voice carried a note of dramatic gratitude.
Voldemort smiled indulgently as he watched Barty Crouch Jr. who was visibly moved to ecstasy by this little bit of praise and collapsed in sobbing delight against his arm. Yet in Voldemort's reptilian eyes, there wasn't even the faintest trace of genuine affection or gratitude—only ice-cold emptiness.
"Thanks to your exceptionally meticulous care during this time, I... ah, I believe I've regained sufficient strength. During our brief reunion dinner, I would like to try for myself—"
Voldemort lazily pushed away Barty's adoring head with barely disguised impatience, his fingers—unnaturally long and skeletal, resembling a house-elf's more than a human's—delicately picked up the silver fork from the plate before him.
"Go now, Barty, take your proper place across from Miss Cliodna. Let us... oh, since today is a particularly auspicious day of longed-for reunion, Lord Voldemort is not reluctant to bestow some special grace—"
The smile that slowly stretched across the monster's lipless mouth made Cliodna's brow furrow. She could sense that Voldemort had indeed grown significantly stronger than when she had last seen him.
"Barty—" Voldemort suddenly twisted his head toward his devoted servant.
"You see... would you be so kind as to extend our hospitality by inviting our special guest from the next room to join our modest feast? He is family too, isn't he? After all, blood connections are so important in our world."
"He is utterly unworthy, Master, he is completely unworthy!"
Even the normally obedient Barty was shocked by Voldemort's unexpected command. He jumped up from the floor with such force that he nearly touched a nearby candleholders, his slightly protruding eyes were now bulging dramatically in his skinny face like those of a startled insect.
"How could such a filthy mongrel possibly have the honor to sit at the same sacred table as you, my magnificent Master? If you would only permit me, I will go this very instant and—"
"Oh my, Barty—" Voldemort lazily waved his arm in a gesture of mock disappointment. "He is not merely a mongrel, my dear Barty. He is your father—there is no avoiding or denying this biological fact. You should, like me... learn to face such humiliation directly.
Oh, the esteemed Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a pure-blood wizard from the ancient and respected Crouch family... Lord Voldemort, in his boundless mercy, is willing to grant him some small measure of dignity in his final days among us."
"Let me kill him now, Master!" Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice rose to a frenzied pitch.
Barty's pale, unnaturally sharp teeth were clenched so tightly together that thin streams of blood began to seep visibly from his gums, staining his lower lip crimson. He howled in a manner similar to that of a wounded animal, as if suffering from the most possible disgrace and humiliation. "I beg you on my knees, Master, let me end this shame once and for all, just as you gloriously did years ago!"
"Oh, Barty, haven't we already discussed in detail the manner and timing of your father's disposal? You will indeed have that honor, but now—"
Voldemort's high voice grew noticeably colder. A terrible, palpable malice began radiating from his short body like waves of heat from a furnace, creating an invisible pressure. This sudden shift in magical energy made Barty Crouch Jr. tremble violently, just as the house-elf Winky had done earlier.
"Go fetch your father to join our gathering first, Barty. What do you think—?"
With visible reluctance but unwilling to further displease his master, Barty disappeared through the side door, muttering darkly under his breath.
Moments later, he returned, dragging his father in with brutal efficiency. He clutched the collar at the back of his father's blood-soaked neck dragging him across the threshold like a piece of discarded garbage.
When the heavy door swung, Cliodna distinctly heard the house-elf Winky crying sadly behind it, quietly begging Barty Crouch Jr. in broken whispers to treat his father more gently.
Since the beginning of the term, when the elder Crouch fell into their hands, Cliodna knew the fate of this high-ranking Ministry official was sealed. Yet, when she saw Barty Crouch Sr.—once one of the most feared and respected wizards in British magical law enforcement— she could not help but feel sad.
THUD!
Under Voldemort's intrigued gaze, Barty roughly pulled his father toward the chair opposite Cliodna. This once iron-willed official, known throughout the wizarding world for his unyielding stance on justice was now completely unrecognizable—like a man whose entire skeletal structure had been magically removed, with his upper body now slumping bizarrely onto the table surface like a damp, discarded rag doll.
The physical condition of Barty Crouch Sr. was beyond terrifying. He was soaked in blood from head to toe. His silver hair was clumped together in tangled chunks from dried blood. His face was now covered in countless wounds and scars of varying depths. These cruel marks, repeatedly cut open and clumsily healed with dark magic to prolong his suffering, left centipede-like, hideous scars across his face.
In a quick glance, Cliodna saw that a large chunk of flesh was missing from Barty Crouch Sr.'s right arm, exposing bone. The flesh around the wound had rotted, producing pus. She also noticed several holes in his legs, which emitted a foul stench while oozing black blood.
This broken man should have been mercifully dead days or even weeks ago by all laws of nature and medicine. Only through the application of the most illegal and evil dark magic was his tortured body maintained with just the most basic biological functions intact.
His mind had been systematically stripped away through repeated applications of the Cruciatus Curse and other unspeakable tortures, leaving behind only an empty shell of a wizard barely clinging to the edges of life!
Barty's eyes burned with deep-seated hatred as he manipulated his father's body like a puppet, ensuring he remained at the table according to the great Dark Lord's command.
"Come, my dear family, let us dine together now—" Voldemort's voice was filled with sadistic anticipation.
From the barely suppressed excitement in Voldemort's unnaturally high-pitched voice, Cliodna could easily imagine how perversely excited this fiend was.
Despite the enticing aromas wafting from the various dishes arranged before her, Cliodna didn't touch a single piece on the table. Regardless of whether the food was poisoned or not—she had absolutely no desire to eat in these circumstances. Only a completely deranged madman could possibly enjoy a meal with a nearly decomposing human body beside him as if it were the most natural dinner companion in the world.
Her demeanor made Voldemort's snake-like eyes glow red once more.
"What is this discourtesy, Mr. Crouch? Didn't you clearly hear me say 'let us dine'?" Voldemort asked softly, putting down his silver soup spoon with exaggerated care and glancing meaningfully at the motionless, bloody mass slumped near Barty Crouch Jr.'s position.
"Or perhaps you find Lord Voldemort's new home somewhat humble? Oh, maybe I should teach you some proper etiquette as a reluctant guest in my home—"
"Let me do it, Master!" Barty's voice cracked with eagerness.
Barty, whose attention had been hooked on Voldemort throughout this exchange, suddenly realized his master's intentions and immediately jumped up with such frenzied excitement that he knocked over his own chair with a resounding crash against the stone floor.
However, his impulsive action clearly overstepped the boundaries of his prescribed role. Before Voldemort could personally deal with the elder Crouch as he clearly intended, a jet of scarlet light erupted from the yew wand and struck Barty directly in the center of his chest.
"Master!" The agonized cry was coming from Barty's throat.
Barty Crouch Jr. immediately crumpled to the stone floor like a puppet whose strings had been violently severed. His already bloodless face instantly became covered in cold sweat, his entire body twisted inward upon itself like a boiled lobster in the verge of death. His body began shaking uncontrollably as every nerve was filled with unimaginable pain.
"Master—I, please forgive my—" he gasped between spasms of agony that twisted his face.
"I hope you can remember this lesson, Barty—" Voldemort said with laziness.
He waved his wand with an almost casual flick of his wrist, lifting the excruciating Cruciatus Curse from the twitching body of Barty Crouch Jr., who remained curled on the floor.
Without pausing, Voldemort then gently tapped the rim of the mushroom soup bowl in front of him with the tip of his wand, which emitted a faint green glow upon contact with the bowl.
Instantly, the thick soup began to boil, swelling dozens of times in volume. The churning soup floated through the air toward Barty Crouch Sr. Under Voldemort's cruel, delighted gaze, the thick soup violently forced its way into the empty-eyed Barty Crouch's mouth and nostrils!
Under this extreme torture, the elder Crouch—whose mind had been almost completely destroyed—began to convulse uncontrollably. Like a catfish thrown into hot oil, his upper body repeatedly slammed hard against the dining table.
"ENOUGH!"
Cliodna's face turned cold, unable to passively witness this atrocity for another moment. She suddenly stood up completely ignoring Barty Crouch Jr's wand now aimed directly at her heart. Her emerald-green hair rose without wind, and her pupils emitted a circle of green light.
SLAP—
Cliodna slammed her palm onto the table. This wasn't meant as intimidation. From the point where her palm connected with the table, life-filled magic surged into the dead wood, bringing it instantly to life. A green sprout emerged from the table's surface, and in just one breath, it grew into a thick vine over ten feet long!
Barty Crouch Jr., still recovering from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, immediately darted to Voldemort's side with surprising agility, pointing his trembling wand directly at Cliodna. Even Voldemort couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
SWOOSH!
The thick vine cut through the air with the speed of a striking serpent, producing a fierce whistling sound as it displaced the air in its path. But the magically conjured plant wasn't aimed at Voldemort or Barty Crouch Jr—it shot directly toward Barty Crouch Sr. still slumped on the table!
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