The Return to Hogwarts

Voldemort, noticing the direction of Vitia's gaze, chuckled, his laughter filled with cruelty.

"Perhaps you recognize it, don't you? Miss Cleopatra, before it came to me, Sparkle worked at Hogwarts. I must admit, these little reptiles do serve a purpose, don't they? At least since it came here, I can finally enjoy hot and delicious food—"

Chapter 730 Voldemort's Family Gathering

2024-02-01

Flashy, trembling slightly, placed a cup of hot tea on Voldemort's side, then retreated back into the shadows behind Voldemort's chair, prostrating himself on one knee.

Vitia remained silent, standing quietly at the door.

Her defiant stance caused a barely perceptible red glint to flash in Voldemort's snake-like eyes; however, his face, which could no longer be described as merely ugly, maintained its serene smile.

Speaking of food--

Voldemort said,

"What a coincidence! I was just about to have my dinner. Come, Miss Clona, ​​I imagine you haven't had time to eat dinner because you were rushing on your journey. Please sit down, Sparkle?"

Even her fine white skin was damp with sweat. She responded in a panic, and then disappeared into thin air with a bang, obviously to prepare dinner.

Vitia did not remove her black cloak. She walked over expressionlessly and sat down below Voldemort's head. Her fixed gaze only wavered for a moment when it fell on the teacup in front of her, which was emitting wisps of white smoke.

There was a man at Hogwarts who also loved tea, but he preferred green tea to black tea.

"You look good, Mr. Voldemort—"

Vitia didn't touch the teacup, she said coldly.

“This is all thanks to the life essence of those plants you left behind before you left, Miss Creona—” The infant-like Voldemort raised his skeletal, club-like arm, admiring it in the candlelight. A slight smile played on his lips, as if he had truly recovered remarkably well.

"Things are better than in the Albanian forests, aren't they? At least I have the strength to read the newspaper myself now—"

Snapped!

Just as Voldemort said this, a boil on his withered forearm, resembling a burn, suddenly burst open, and blood and pus flowed down his arm like a stream.

Vitia frowned slightly as her gaze swept across Voldemort's face. Although the expression on his distorted face remained unchanged, she clearly saw a flash of humiliation and a raging rage deep within Voldemort's crimson eyes.

"Ah, it's not very stable; sometimes it just happens like that—"

Voldemort picked up the wand placed in front of him with his other, unaffected hand, and began to cast a complex healing spell on the wound. Countless shimmering silver dustes drifted from the tip of the wand and landed near the 'boiling wound,' suppressing the rampant magic within.

"This is caused by Blaine's Fiend Curse—"

After his arm returned to its scalded state, Voldemort flipped his wrist, admiring himself with great interest.

“I must admit, I am astonished by Blaine’s mastery of the Fiendfire spell, Miss Clona. Even your wondrous potions cannot suppress the power of Fiendfire—”

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Voldemort—"

Vitia's eyes flickered for a moment, and she said softly.

How did Voldemort come into contact with Amostall Blaine's Fiendfire?

This was likely due to Vitia's unauthorized actions during the Quidditch World Cup. In order to save his only helper at the time, he had to expose himself and temporarily suppress Amosta Blaine's brilliance by self-destructing.

"Ah, don't feel guilty, Miss Clona—"

Vitia's apology was clearly insincere, but Voldemort nodded with satisfaction.

"Who doesn't make mistakes? Even I, too, have ended up in this situation because of some foolish errors. Fortunately, everything is back on track, and those foolish mistakes will eventually be corrected—"

Thank you for your magnanimity--

Vitia nodded slightly.

The house-elf's cooking speed was impeccable. In just a short while, Sparkle reappeared outside the stone room. It kept its head down, not daring to look at the two people inside. After going back and forth a few times, the long table was already filled with plates of food.

To be fair, this was already quite a feast, but Voldemort clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

"I'm sorry, Miss Clona, ​​these are difficult times—"

Voldemort raised his head and slowly surveyed the stone chamber. Finally, his gaze fell on the statue-like Vitia, and he lightly tapped the Daily Prophet he had been reading. The cover of the newspaper featured a dreamlike ice and snow castle.

The scene of Amos Tower and Dumbledore creating the Ice Castle together that night was not recorded, but after the ball, the young wizards took some photos of the Ice Castle to commemorate the occasion. The magnificent and fantastical architecture, along with the hot topic of the Triwizard Tournament, immediately made the story headline in the newspapers.

"--It certainly can't compare to the service you received at Hogwarts, Miss Creona, but I can assure you that it won't be long before you're back there again. Of course, I mean without pretending."

Voldemort said with a smile.

"I'm really looking forward to that day—"

Vitia remained silent, answering only questions and refusing to utter a single extra word. However, as Voldemort's displeasure was exposed, Flash began to tremble violently, its body shaking like a sieve. Its face, turned towards the ground, was filled with fear and despair. Clearly, it had learned its lesson during its return.

"I'm not blaming you, Sparkle--"

Even though he wasn't looking at Blink, Voldemort was fully aware of Blink's condition. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I think you must have done your best, right?"

"The Merciful Dark Lord."

Unable to contain her fear, Flashy Flash burst into tears, but her cries did not elicit sympathy. Instead, they drew a gleam in Voldemort's eyes. Perhaps because Vitia was present, and out of consideration for this woman's 'habits,' he did not punish Flashy Flash for her incessant chatter.

"Alright, Sparkle—"

Voldemort said lazily,

"Perhaps you could go next door and help summon my loyal servant; I know he's engrossed in the game, but dinner is the most important thing—"

This was probably the most terrified and struggling sight in the eyes of the little elf named Sparkle that Vitia saw after entering the room. It was as if it would rather go to the next room, but it clearly knew very well that if it showed even the slightest resistance, death would be its fate.

The Dark Lord won't keep it around just because he needs someone to cook for him; it will die and become the terrifying serpent's dinner.

If it could save its old master, Shanshan would be willing to die, but given the current situation, it has to live.

Not long after it disappeared again, the incessant wailing from the next room, separated by only one door, suddenly rose in intensity for a moment before fading away completely. Then, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged man stepped out from behind it.

This was a pale-skinned, flushed middle-aged man. His face was filled with a distorted smile, and his eyes were filled with madness. He was panting excitedly as he walked over from next door. His clothes were stained with blood, and the hand holding the wand seemed to have been soaked in blood, with drops of blood slowly dripping to the ground.

"It's you--"

Upon seeing the figure seated beside his master, Barty Crach Jr. paused, then flew into a rage. He strode over, pointed his wand at the back of Vitia's head, his face contorted with cruelty and savagery.

"How dare you! How dare you sit with our great master!"

“Oh, dear Buddy—”

Vitia remained unmoved; she didn't even glance back at Barty Crouch Jr., while Voldemort wore a fake smile.

“I’ve already told you, Barty, haven’t I? Miss Creona helped Lord Voldemort during his most difficult time. Helped him—helped him out of a desperate situation. You should show her some respect—”

"Oh, my master!"

In an instant, Barty's ferocity turned into humility. He quickly went to Voldemort's side, knelt down, and gently kissed the back of his hand.

"I have not disobeyed your wishes, Master. I simply... simply cannot tolerate any disrespect shown to you by anyone!"

“Miss Clona has not shown me any disrespect, Barty--”

Voldemort slowly shook his head, then his interest suddenly surged.

“Ah, perhaps I should apologize to you, Miss Clona, ​​I just addressed you as a guest, but actually—”

Voldemort smiled and said,

"You and Batty are family to me. Real family!"

Barty immediately burst into tears, and Voldemort patted him on the head. Barty looked at the food on the table and then said with great interest,

"Come on, Barty and Miss Creona, this is... oh, this is a belated Christmas dinner, a gathering of Voldemort and his family. Of course, it looks a bit shabby, but I think you won't mind, will you?"

Chapter 731 Old Barty's Predicament

2024-02-01

In the unknown underground chamber, the room was warm and cozy. Under the glow of poorly designed candlesticks, the food on the neatly arranged plates on the table emitted an enticing color and aroma. It seemed like a very warm scene, but Vitia's heart was filled with a bone-chilling cold.

In the forests of Albania, she spent some time with Voldemort, and she knew all too well that this Dark Lord, feared to the very core by wizards of the magical world, had become a monster so evil as to be unlike any other.

She had witnessed Voldemort interrogating Bertha Jorkins, experiencing firsthand his cruelty and utter lack of respect for life. And through Barty Crouch Jr., she saw another terrifying side of Voldemort.

"I've come to serve you, master—"

The lowly house-elves were not qualified to feed Lord Voldemort. During this time, Barty Crouch Jr. took on this task. He knelt beside Voldemort's chair and tied a napkin around Voldemort's neck with a gentle, feminine touch. His bloodless face shone with a radiant glow, like that of a most devout believer.

This twisted devotion, coupled with Barty Crouch Jr.'s slightly bulging eyes, perfectly encapsulates what madness truly means!

"Oh, thank you so much! What would I have done without you these days, Barty?"

Voldemort watched with a smile as Barty Crouch Jr., moved to tears by his praise, buried his face in his arm, his snake-like eyes cold and devoid of any emotion.

"Thanks to your meticulous care during this time, I... ah, I think I'm recovering quite well, and during this brief period of reunion, I hope to be able to do it myself—"

Voldemort lazily brushed Barty's head aside, his long, slender, elf-like fingers gripping the silver fork on the plate.

"Go, Barty, sit opposite Miss Creona, let us... Oh, since today is a day of reunion, Lord Voldemort is not stingy with bestowing some special favors—"

The monster beside her gave her a knowing smile, which made Vitia raise an eyebrow. She could sense that Voldemort was indeed stronger than before.

"Bati--"

Voldemort turned his head to look at Barty Jr.