Bellatrix recounted what Barty Crouch Jr. had said.
Walking into the room, Voldemort sat down on the sofa. "Severus is that powerful now?"
He had already experienced how powerful and cunning Harry Potter could be—so much so that even he couldn't handle it.
Of course, he had only just been resurrected. He wasn't yet the fearsome Dark Lord he once was.
"A third-year Potter was the one Severus dealt with at the time," a Death Eater replied in a low bow.
Oh, third-year.
That was understandable.
Voldemort lowered his head, looking at his wound. It was turning green, festering, and emitting a foul stench as it slowly ate away at his flesh. At this rate, the decay would make any treatment pointless—amputation would be the most effective option.
"Summon Severus back," Voldemort rasped after a long pause.
He could cure basilisk venom—after all, the one in the castle was his dear pet.
But he wasn't certain this was only basilisk venom.
He was skilled in potions, but not to that extent.
"Master, your dear godson—" a Death Eater exclaimed in shock.
Voldemort elegantly raised his wand and calmly intoned, "Cruciatus!"
The man immediately collapsed, writhing in agony.
"What are you trying to say?" Voldemort murmured. "Are you reminding me—"
"That the Dark Lord, killed once, has become a pathetic wretch, a wretch saved by his godson?"
"That Voldemort's words are not to be trusted, and that you should obey this so-called 'dear godson' instead?"
Should they listen to him or Barty Crouch? That was the question.
The Death Eater shook his head desperately, his limbs spasming in pain.
"N-No, my great Lord! The Death Eaters have always been loyal only to you!" he gasped.
Voldemort sneered. "Then why do you grit your teeth when saying it? Why don't you speak smoothly?"
"Are you truly sincere?"
"Let me see for myself."
With a flick of his wand, the Death Eater's robes lifted, exposing his chest.
With a sickening rip—
His chest split open, revealing a beating heart. Voldemort twitched his wand again, severing blood vessels one by one until the still-throbbing heart floated in the air.
"Is this your heart?" Voldemort took it into his hand. "Let me take a look."
"A fine heart indeed."
"But how come I don't see any sincerity in it?"
The Death Eater gasped for air, barely clinging to life through magic, but the absence of his heart still put unbearable strain on his body.
Voldemort toyed with it, as if handling a rare treasure. After a moment, he let out a sudden realization. "Oh, perhaps it truly is a sincere heart."
He let go.
The heart flew forward and returned to the man's chest.
The Death Eater finally caught his breath, as if coming back to life.
"Don't do that again, alright?" Voldemort murmured, as if speaking respectfully, his words laced with sharp finality.
Still trembling, the Death Eater flipped onto his stomach and bowed low before Voldemort. "Master, my great Lord, my loyalty has never wavered!"
"Then go fetch Severus. Bring him here," Voldemort commanded with a flick of his wand. "At times like this, we need all the strength we can get."
Just then—
The door swung open.
Lucius Malfoy entered, trembling and covered in wind and snow.
"My dear Lucius," Voldemort regarded him lightly. "In my memory, when I last saw you, you were just a boy."
"And now, you've grown so old."
Lucius knelt. "Praise your return, my great Lord."
"I do not need praise," Voldemort dismissed with a wave of his hand. "My very existence is praise enough."
"The task I entrusted to you—"
Lucius bowed his head and kissed the floor. "Master, your servant has failed."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes, flicking his wand. The Cruciatus Curse struck the aging man.
"Failed?" Voldemort sneered. "That was your son—the heir of the Malfoy family. And you dare tell me you failed?"
He didn't use too much magic—just enough to make Lucius suffer while still able to speak.
"Master, no, please hear my explanation," Lucius gasped.
"He refuses to embrace the glory of the Death Eaters."
Voldemort cut him off. "He refuses?"
"Is it that he refuses, or that you refuse?"
"Malfoy, give me your answer."
"It was him! It was him!" Lucius writhed in pain. "My great Lord, I—I would not dare to lie! He is an ungrateful son. When I told him to become a proud Death Eater, he attacked me without hesitation—he no longer sees me as his father!"
"I haven't seen him in two years. He has grown strong."
"Master, I was no match for him. He defeated me—he even took my wand."
With difficulty, he lifted his robe to reveal fresh wounds.
Voldemort examined them.
It was easy to tell whether they were self-inflicted or caused by an actual battle—at least, to him.
These were the marks of someone truly beaten.
"Father and son," Voldemort withdrew his curse and sneered. "Family—what a ridiculous concept."
After a brief pause, he continued, "Lucius, I am very disappointed in you."
"You've failed me once again."
Lucius trembled, kneeling to kiss Voldemort's feet. "Master, please punish me! Your loyal servant will accept any punishment—"
Voldemort lifted his foot, granting him the honor of the gesture. "No, Lucius, my dear friend. You are loyal, and the loyal deserve rewards, even if you have failed me twice."
"At least you did not hinder my resurrection."
Lucius kissed harder.
Voldemort's gaze deepened. "I heard that back in Hogwarts, you and Severus were close?"
"Then I have a task for you."
"My dear Lucius, as quickly as possible—remember my words, as quickly as possible—bring Severus to me."
"I need him now."
Lucius lifted his head, looking at his master in disbelief.
Voldemort's expression darkened. "What? Are you, too, listening to Crouch's advice, thinking I shouldn't—"
He raised his wand threateningly.
Lucius shook his head at once. "No! My great Lord, your wisdom is absolute! Your servant will faithfully carry out your every will!"
Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. "Good."
He considered explaining himself—but quickly dismissed the idea.
A Dark Lord, a master, should never explain his own mistakes. Since when did a ruler need to explain anything to his servants?
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Powerstones?
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