Capítulo 613: Chapter 613: Scar (Edited)
Wormtail lowered his head and dragged Lucius Malfoy away. Lucius's heavy body left a long mark on the grass, as well as a few drops of a foul-smelling yellow liquid.
Voldemort watched as Lucius was taken away and felt the fun rapidly fading, replaced by the pain in his arm once more.
With a sweep of his robes, Voldemort hurriedly departed. He needed time to contemplate his next plan and assess the state of his Horcruxes.
Once her husband was out of danger, Narcissa sat on the ground, crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheeks and fell to the ground, forming large drops.
Both Barty Crouch Jr. and Snape fell silent, silently watching Narcissa cry.
After a while, she managed to calm down gradually.
As she raised her head and saw the mess in her own garden, she felt her world turning dark. Her family was in danger, her husband had suffered a cruel fate, her son was forced into dangerous tasks, and a band of lunatics had invaded her home...
Damn it! How had her once beautiful life turned into this nightmare? Narcissa felt a glimpse of resentment, not understanding why her family, a pure-blood family and loyal followers of Voldemort, was being treated this way.
At that moment, Snape approached her and handed her a handkerchief to wipe her tears. Narcissa then remembered that there were still two loyal followers of Voldemort around her. She quickly concealed her expression of resentment and dried her tears with Snape's handkerchief.
The handkerchief was soft and carried the scent of lilies.
Once she had dried her tears and regained her composure, Narcissa looked at the two men who had extended their help to her with gratitude. She stood up and thanked Snape and Barty solemnly.
"I thank you very much for extending your help."
"It's nothing," said Barty, waving his hand, "I believe Lucius is still loyal to the Master; he just made a mistake and can redeem himself. It would be too severe a punishment to execute him directly."
However, Barty Crouch Jr.'s words had the opposite effect, and Narcissa trembled even more.
Redeem himself? What more do they want them to do? They even handed over their house! Since Voldemort turned this into his lair, gold had flowed like water. If they continued to oppose in this way, the Malfoys would end up like the Weasleys.
Snape, on the other hand, remained silent with a somber expression, not revealing what he was thinking.
He knew that Dumbledore had prepared a large quantity of Polyjuice Potion, which intrigued him. It couldn't be that Dumbledore did it just to improve his potion-making skills. The magical world didn't have a rule that said making a potion perfectly ten times would unlock automatic brewing.
Therefore, he could only deduce that someone needed to regularly take those potions.
And considering Voldemort's return, Snape could assume that Dumbledore had infiltrated a spy among the Death Eaters.
In these past few days, he had been speculating and trying to figure out the identity of the spy. And now, he was beginning to have a suspicion in his mind.
Voldemort, after abandoning the idea of torturing Lucius, paced around the mansion's hall.
"Diary, crown, cup, ring, locket..." he muttered as he counted the objects that were his Horcruxes. Due to the number of fragmentations and the time that had passed, Voldemort could no longer sense the current state of the Horcruxes, not even when one of them had been destroyed.
The only one he could still have some sensation of was the Horcrux he had left at Azkaban.
Suddenly, Voldemort felt a sharp pain in his head. He realized that his Horcrux at Azkaban had been destroyed.
Rage consumed him. Even though he despised it, she was still one of his Horcruxes. Did she really think his soul could be split infinitely? Voldemort had decided from the beginning to create only seven Horcruxes; that was his plan, and he couldn't change it on the fly.
While Voldemort's mind wandered, he suddenly found himself transported to the Hogwarts Common Room, where a red-haired student was speaking to him.
Just as Voldemort was trying to carefully observe the scene before him, the surroundings changed once again, and he was back in the Malfoy Manor.
"Interesting," murmured Voldemort as he narrowed his eyes. Through his recent anomalous perception, he had noticed something, something very intriguing.
...
"Harry, are you okay?" Ron looked at his good friend with concern. Something seemed off today as Harry's scar on his forehead was hurting for no apparent reason.
This worried Ron.
"I can bear it..." Harry breathed heavily as beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
This year, his scar had been especially active since the summer holidays, causing him to witness several unsettling scenes. He had shared his findings with the people he trusted, but hadn't received many clear answers. Dumbledore and Tom seemed to know a lot but preferred to keep it secret. As for Ron, he was willing to offer all the help he could.
However, this time, for some strange reason, Harry decided not to share what he had seen with his dear friend Ron. He felt that at certain moments, he could sense Voldemort's inner thoughts, experiencing his anger firsthand. Using the words Harry hated, it felt like he was becoming Voldemort.
[Maybe I should send a letter to Sirius.]
The idea faded as soon as it occurred to him. Sirius himself had told him not to think about getting in touch during the rest of the year.
[I can't do anything.]
Harry felt a wave of frustration. A surge of anger washed over him, toward Ron, toward Tom, toward Sirius, and even toward Dumbledore...
"Why don't we finish eating and then go talk to Dumbledore?" Ron cautiously suggested, discreetly nodding toward the center of the teachers' table. Harry looked in that direction and saw Dumbledore enjoying his lunch.
Today, Dumbledore seemed to be in very good spirits. His plate held a generous portion of mashed potatoes with a thick gravy on top, and beside it, a massive ribeye steak that looked to weigh at least a pound. Additionally, he had poured himself a large glass of French red wine.
Not only did Dumbledore have a significant amount of food on his plate, but he also savored every bite. He quickly cut the steak with his knife and fork, bringing the tender piece of red meat to his mouth. Just watching his expression made one's appetite open up.
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