章 193: Chapter 193: Karkaroff
The Dark Lord is about to return!
Rumors spread across Britain like a plague, beginning with the Death Eaters who had betrayed Voldemort.
These former followers, fearing retribution, became increasingly paranoid. When the Dark Mark started to change, their terror consumed them like a whale devouring prey in the ocean.
With Lucius Malfoy's help, the rumor gained credibility.
Lucius had been busy, holding several gatherings and meeting with pure-blood wizards who had distanced themselves from the Dark Lord after his fall, spreading the rumor of his return. His actions were a calculated attempt to regain favor with Voldemort.
"See, even though I, Lucius Malfoy, may have failed and wavered, the moment you return, my loyalty is unwavering!" he seemed to say.
This behavior aligned with Voldemort's intentions. By activating the Dark Mark and causing it to burn like a brand on his followers, Voldemort aimed to instill confidence in those still loyal to him and to instill fear in those who had betrayed him.
While Lucius's actions served Voldemort's purpose, he had taken it a bit too far.
The rumor had spread beyond the Death Eaters, reaching the ears of many wizards across Britain, turning into something almost prophetic.
However, this wasn't entirely without benefit. The seeds of fear had been sown. Once Voldemort truly returned as planned, the terror he would instill in the British wizarding community would reach its peak, even surpassing what it had been in the past!
The only problem was that Voldemort feared the British Ministry of Magic might prepare for war due to this "prophecy." If that happened, his conquest of Britain would face significant obstacles.
Fortunately, the British wizards had a 'good' Minister of Magic!
Cornelius Fudge.
He was the type of leader who couldn't stand hearing "alarmist" rumors. In his "wise" judgment, he made no preparations for any potential crisis. He firmly believed that these rumors were nothing more than scaremongering, concocted by people with ulterior motives to achieve secretive ends!
Not only did he forbid Ministry officials from discussing the matter, but he also prohibited the Daily Prophet from publishing any related reports, focusing entirely on presenting an image of peace to the British wizards.
"I really want to reward him!" Voldemort, who had already crossed the sea to the European continent, was holding a locket in one hand and reading the intelligence sent by Barty Crouch Jr. with the other. He was in an exceptionally good mood.
This was exactly what a shrewd and capable servant should do for him.
Thinking of Peter Pettigrew made Voldemort angry. Twelve years ago, Pettigrew had cost him his body, and more recently, he had lost Harry. That kind of useless creature could die a thousand times, and Voldemort wouldn't feel any regret.
Fortunately, there was Barty Jr.
Of course, Voldemort had a few other shrewd and capable servants, but they were currently locked up in Azkaban.
As for the others, the once-promising Lucius had become unreliable, Regulus had outright betrayed him, and as for Snape—
Voldemort couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams that Dumbledore had vouched for Snape all those years ago.
"Indeed, he has gained Dumbledore's trust, but... is he still loyal to me?"
This was a question that would likely never find an answer... at least right now.
Voldemort carefully put the locket away. He didn't intend to carry it with him. After all, the body he was currently controlling—old Barty Crouch's—was nothing more than a disposable tool that could be sacrificed at any moment. If a crisis arose, he could abandon this body, but the Horcrux he had painstakingly reclaimed could not be lost so easily.
However, he was also pondering,
"The speed at which Cyrus's magic power increases seems a bit too alarming."
From their first encounter deep beneath Gringotts, to their mutual stalemate at the Hall of Knowledge, and factoring in the destroyed ring, Voldemort suspected that Cyrus had been enhancing his power by absorbing fragments of souls.
Would the power of a fragmented soul differ from that of a complete one?
Voldemort himself wasn't sure.
He had begun creating Horcruxes while still in school, long before he had reached the peak of his magical potential. This led him to wonder: could the act of splitting his soul have hindered his progress?
Perhaps he could have grown even stronger?!
His serpent-like eyes gleamed, but in the end, he decided against reabsorbing the fragment of his soul within the locket.
"As long as I obtain the ancient magic, my power will naturally ascend to a new level. An immortal body is more important to me!"
It wasn't that Voldemort was simply afraid of death; rather, the combined force of Cyrus and Dumbledore during their last confrontation had left a significant shadow over him. Even if he restored his soul to wholeness, he couldn't be certain of his ability to fight both Cyrus and Dumbledore simultaneously. In such a situation, having a means of self-preservation was crucial.
Moreover, even if he wanted to reintegrate his soul, it wasn't possible. How could Voldemort ever feel genuine remorse for the lives he had taken?
He pushed these thoughts aside and stepped into the hidden magical school in Northern Europe—Durmstrang.
At this time, Durmstrang's headmaster was still Igor Karkaroff.
This tall, thin wizard, with short white hair and a narrow chin adorned with a small curled goatee, was well known to Voldemort.
Especially after Karkaroff had betrayed his "friends" to escape imprisonment, Voldemort held a deep-seated hatred for him.
This man, once Voldemort was fully resurrected, would be the first to be sacrificed in blood!
"Haha, Crouch! Old friend!" Karkaroff greeted old Barty with a warm smile as soon as he saw him, showing no signs of any lingering resentment from being judged by Crouch years ago.
However, his eyes were cold, and there was a deep sense of worry.
"We can hardly be called friends," Voldemort imitated Crouch's rigid and indifferent manner, speaking with contempt and stiffness. "I'm here about the Triwizard Tournament."
"Ah, you mean that..."
Karkaroff uneasily adjusted the thick felt hat on his head, hesitating slightly as he said, "Are you going to Hogwarts for the competition?"
"According to the rotation, it's at Hogwarts this time."
"Then you'd better talk to Madam Rosier. To be honest, I'm planning to resign." Karkaroff seemed unenthusiastic and particularly resistant to the idea of going to Britain.
He couldn't outright refuse the Triwizard Tournament either. Although he was the headmaster, he couldn't make decisions about the school's affairs on his own.
Most of the school's board members were key figures in the Ministry of Magic, and they placed great importance on international competitions like this.
Who wouldn't want to outshine Hogwarts, or rather, outshine Dumbledore?
But Karkaroff really wasn't in the mood.
The Dark Mark on his arm kept burning, especially after seeing "Crouch," and the sensation intensified, as if someone were pouring molten iron over it.
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