Mr. Lucius Malfoy had recently claimed to be feeling somewhat unwell.
He had even declined an invitation from Mr. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, to attend the Quidditch match between the Tutshill Tornados and Puddlemere United.
Thus, Malfoy Manor had been closed to visitors for several days.
Though the estate appeared calm on the surface, it had secretly received several uninvited guests in recent days.
Now, another hooded wizard appeared, striding briskly through the iron gates while keeping a wary eye on his surroundings.
Suddenly, the wizard's expression changed.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light burst forth, and something fell from the top of the hedge.
"A peacock?" he muttered with a curl of his lip, wand still raised. "Lucius certainly has an eye for elegance... I thought it was an Auror."
Pocketing his wand, he continued toward the grand mansion ahead.
...
The uninvited guest slipped into the cellar of Malfoy Manor.
His footsteps were light and cautious. When he removed his hood, a tall, rough-looking man with a thick, brutish face was revealed.
"Yaxley!" A sharp, clear voice echoed from within the room as he entered. "I told you—unless you have vital news, do not come here looking for me during this time!"
The speaker sat before the fireplace. In the dim light, his features were barely visible—a hairless, serpentine face with slits for nostrils and narrow, gleaming eyes.
"I understand, my Lord!" said the Death Eater Yaxley, bowing humbly. "But I bring great news…"
"I have earned the trust of Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office. He has promised to assign me to Azkaban to oversee communications with the Dementors."
"Is that so?" Voldemort repeated, his crimson eyes locking onto Yaxley. "Indeed... that is good news."
"Once we establish contact and strike a deal with the Dementors, we'll be able to rescue Dolohov, Rookwood, and the Lestrange couple from Azkaban," Yaxley said excitedly. "Master, give me three months, and our ranks will swell with powerful reinforcements!"
Voldemort shook his head slightly. "No. I'll give you six months."
Yaxley froze.
"Do not rush, Yaxley. Do not expose us," Voldemort said coolly. "This time, we remain in the shadows—that is our greatest advantage. Do not startle the prey before the strike."
"I understand, Master!" Yaxley nodded quickly.
"Is there any way to use the Imperius Curse on Cornelius Fudge, Yaxley?" Lucius Malfoy asked hesitantly from the side. "If we could control the Minister for Magic, our future operations would be far easier."
"I doubt it," Yaxley replied, shaking his head. "Fudge seems obsessed with the idea that Dumbledore is plotting to take his position. He's so paranoid that he eats and sleeps surrounded by several Aurors..."
"Dumbledore..." Voldemort gave a cold, derisive laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Then let the Minister be. When the time comes, we'll give him a surprise."
Yaxley dropped to one knee, kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe, and retreated from the cellar.
...
Voldemort's scarlet eyes turned toward Mr. Malfoy.
"And you?"
"I'm terribly sorry, Master…" Lucius stammered. "Crabbe and Gibbon were killed. Macnair, Rowle, and Carrow are still being treated at St. Mungo's... Avery told them it was a muggle car accident they'd been caught in..."
"Have you found out who did it?" Voldemort growled, his expression darkening.
"We administered Veritaserum to the only muggle survivor... but he couldn't provide any useful information…" Lucius's face was pale with fear.
"Crucio!"
Voldemort raised his wand, his voice rising in fury. "You disappoint me, Lucius! First you lose my diary, and now you can't even handle this small matter!"
Lucius collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain and groaning in agony.
"I'm sorry, Master…" he gasped, still struggling to speak.
...
The door to the cellar opened once again.
A frail-looking figure stepped inside.
Voldemort lowered his wand and rose to his feet.
"Barty?" he asked softly.
"Master…" Barty Crouch Jr. pulled back his hood, excitement lighting up his face.
Lucius Malfoy took the opportunity to flee from the room.
Barty Crouch Jr. tried to kneel and kiss the hem of Voldemort's robe, but Voldemort strode forward and caught him by the shoulders.
Barty gave a wry smile. "Master, I've been playing the Auror for so long that I almost forgot the etiquette I owe you..."
"There's no need for that," Voldemort said softly. "Barty, you have earned the highest honor."
He guided Crouch to another chair.
Sitting down, Barty thought for a moment before speaking. "Dumbledore knows there's a spy at Hogwarts. At first, he suspected Karkaroff, but Karkaroff escaped. Now he's cautious—but I don't think he suspects me yet."
"Be careful, Barty," Voldemort warned. "If anything feels off, escape immediately."
"I understand, Master," Barty replied, nodding. "Dumbledore is rallying his old allies—Hogwarts professors, Aurors, and his former friends."
Voldemort frowned, listening intently.
"He's also sent Rubeus Hagrid to France to contact the giants there," Barty continued.
"Rubeus Hagrid?" Voldemort sneered. "How amusing. He expects to win them over with a half-giant? Lucius... Lucius..."
The pale-faced Malfoy hurried back into the cellar.
"What is it, Master?" His voice trembled slightly.
"Tell Macnair," Voldemort ordered disdainfully. "Once his wounds have healed, he is to go to France as well—to seek out the giants and deliver my gifts to them."
"Yes, Master!"
"And one more thing," Barty Crouch Jr. added in a low voice. "Dumbledore has been sending people to the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. It seems he's monitoring something—or searching for it."
"The Department of Mysteries..." Voldemort murmured quietly, his expression growing dark and contemplative.