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----
Albanian Forest, Lord Voldemort's temporary hideout.
Bang! Thud!
Two dull thuds of heavy objects hitting the ground rang out, almost simultaneously with the sound of knees striking the earth.
Two charred corpses fell onto the leaf-strewn, moss-covered clearing. A few wisps of Fiendfyre sparks that had not yet completely extinguished still clung to them.
A mass of black mist surged out from behind Barty's head, condensing into the form of a baby before them.
It had skin that looked as though it had been flayed, tiny limbs, and a pair of disproportionately large eyes.
At this moment, those eyes were coldly scanning the corpses on the ground and the kneeling Barty.
Before him, Barty Crouch Jr. knelt on the ground, his face deathly pale, his body trembling violently from the brief possession.
"Mas... Master... I... I failed. I failed to bring back the Carrows alive... I only brought back their... corpses. Please punish me, Master!"
The infant-form Lord Voldemort did not speak.
His emotions at this moment were extremely complex: indignation, scrutiny, doubt, and... uncertainty.
His gaze fell upon the two corpses once again.
The scene he had perceived remotely through the Dark Mark just moments ago flashed clearly before his eyes once more:
That young Wizard's figure, his face... that face... Lord Voldemort's pupils suddenly constricted.
He remembered.
Two years ago, during the year he spent on the back of Quirrell's head. A boy who had shown extraordinary interest and comprehension in certain "extracurricular subjects."
At the time, he had merely given a few casual pointers, sowing some insignificant seeds to see what kind of twisted sprout might grow from this seemingly mediocre student.
But now... that fellow's Killing Curse could actually fucking fork?!
It's not like he'd been drinking fake wine; how could he be hallucinating? This situation was simply unheard of! Sensationalist nonsense!
----
...A few days later, one afternoon, Diagon Alley, Epoch-Making Alchemy Magic Shop.
The charred marks outside the shop had been cleaned away, and fresh timber and magical materials were piled in the corner.
The constant sounds of clanging, sawing, and the sizzle of magical adhesive filled the air as several Goblin craftsmen hired from Knockturn Alley busily repaired the doors, windows, and counters.
However, the "upgrades" inside the shop were the real highlight.
Lynn stood in the center of the shop, waving his wand. Under his control, several "lightly modified" heavy machine guns were embedded into sliding tracks hidden along the ceiling.
The muzzles peeked out slightly from behind decorative chandeliers, vent grilles, or mural frames, their angles covering every entrance, passageway, and display area in the shop.
"Click."
As the final latch engaged, several machine guns vibrated slightly in unison, the runes on their surfaces lighting up one after another before quickly fading.
"Defense system 'Steel Rain' integration complete. Circuits are clear, monitoring network link is stable. System is in autonomous alert mode and capable of identifying preset threat signatures. Master, you may intervene and directly operate it at any time through the main control node or via mental commands."
Lynn put away his wand, feeling quite satisfied with this newly arranged "guest-welcoming system."
He looked up and scanned the hidden death-dealing points, then casually pointed at a humanoid sandbag in the corner used for testing the durability of magical items.
"Target, that sandbag. Fire."
Buzz—
A low hum rang through the air, sounding much like the beating wings of a swarm of bees.
The next second—
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
Burning tongues of fire erupted from the muzzles. Magically enhanced bullets wove into a metal storm at a speed difficult for the naked eye to follow, instantly enveloping the humanoid sandbag.
Even though the sandbag was enchanted with powerful defensive charms, under such a dense barrage, the protective glow on its surface flickered violently before quickly dimming.
Stuffing flew everywhere, and the sturdy outer shell was instantly covered in honeycomb-like dents and cracks.
The sound of bullet impacts and ricochets echoed through the shop, deafeningly loud and drowning out all other noise.
In a mere two and a half seconds of strafing, the test sandbag, which was capable of withstanding continuous bombardment from jinxes, had become riddled with holes.
The gunfire stopped abruptly, and the humming sound gradually faded.
Lynn stepped forward, poked the perforated sandbag, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Not bad. Reaction speed, fire density, and control precision are all up to standard. It should be enough for dealing with idiots who don't know any better."
Having finished the "security upgrade," Lynn walked behind the repaired counter and picked up the morning's copy of The Daily Prophet to read.
The headline on the front page was quite provocative:
"Dumbledore Issues Stern Warning: You-Know-Who Is Not Dead!"
Subheadline: Hogwarts Headmaster claims the Dark Lord is active in the shadows, calls for the wizarding world to remain vigilant.
Lynn raised an eyebrow and continued reading. The related reports on the second and third pages were more specific:
"Dark Mark Appears in Cairngorms, Ministry of Magic Launches Urgent Investigation"
The article described the eerie green skull sighting observed by nearby Wizards a few days ago, mentioning that the Ministry's Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and the Auror Office had intervened, but no trace of the mark's caster or any gathering activity had been found. They were inclined to believe it was "provocation or intimidation by isolated remnants."
"Two Charred Bodies Found Deep in Albanian Forest, Identities Suspected to be the Carrows"
This report contained more details, revealing that the bodies were found in a remote forest with obvious burn marks. The state of the corpses and the residual magic at the scene were extremely bizarre, leaving investigators baffled.
The article cautiously cited an "anonymous Ministry source" speculating that the deceased might have failed while performing a dangerous Dark Arts ritual.
The article concluded by mentioning that rumors of You-Know-Who being active in the shadows were pure speculation.
----
Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor.
Lucius Malfoy sat alone in his study, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the Dark Mark that seemed to have grown clearer over the past two days.
Spread out before him was also a copy of The Daily Prophet.
Malfoy's gaze moved back and forth between the newspaper and the Dark Mark. He examined them carefully, especially when comparing the timing.
He subconsciously recalled the time Lynn had "visited" Malfoy Manor that early morning, leaving after "inquiring" about information on the Carrows.
Cold sweat seeped from his forehead.
The timing... it matched. It matched perfectly!
Malfoy desperately wanted to convince himself it was a coincidence. If it wasn't... it meant that after getting the information from him, Lynn had, with almost inconceivable efficiency, directly pinpointed the Carrows' location and then... dealt with them.
At the same time, a hair-raising deduction surfaced uncontrollably in his mind:
Lynn hadn't just killed the Carrows.
He had likely killed them right in front of You-Know-Who... while they were responding to the Dark Mark and attempting to rendezvous with him.
"Merlin..." Lucius felt a wave of dizziness and had to grip the back of his chair.
If the Dark Lord truly was active in the shadows, and if the deaths of the Carrows were directly related to Lynn... then what role had he himself played in all this?
It was he, Lucius Malfoy, who had identified the Carrows to Lynn!
Once the Dark Lord learned of this... with his cruel nature, how would he view him?
This was practically tying the House of Malfoy directly between two accelerating Killing Curses about to collide, with no way to escape.
The elder Malfoy let out a long sigh. His head throbbed with a massive headache, and he began to think that perhaps he should just take his family and run away.