Author’s note: Guys, please... if you can spare some power stones, I’d really appreciate it.

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Crash!

The screen shattered violently, the image of the roaring stadium and the crowd rising to applaud the champions disappearing in an instant when the device exploded into twisted scraps of metal.

"Bring me Lucius!"

The culprit lowered its thin, bony arm after speaking, bloodshot eyes still fixed on the device, or what remained of it.

"Ma-Master... Lucius is at Hogwarts, just as you arranged. If you wish, I can send for him at once."

Only Peter Pettigrew spoke up, his frightened voice breaking the silence. Perhaps it was fear, or perhaps he was simply trying to earn favor and prove his devotion. The others in the room, meanwhile, kept their heads lowered. They knew it was far safer to say nothing when their master was in a rage.

"Ma-master?" stuttering, Peter slowly raised his head.

He desperately wanted to prove his worth, not remain some wretched and pitiful servant whose only task was brewing strange and disgusting potions.

He wanted to be involved in the discussions too, even the action... well, provided ofcourse, it was not dangerous. But he was always left out, especially when the important conversations began.

Why... why? What makes them better than me, Peter Pettigrew?

Naturally, he was far too much of a coward to voice such thoughts. Still, even cowardly Death Eaters were allowed to fantasize, weren’t they?

By the time Peter’s eyes finally met his master’s, he had already swallowed those rebellious thoughts as if they had never crossed his mind. And sure enough, that cold, merciless gaze was the same as always.

When Voldemort looked at the others, his arrogance showed itself through contempt, ruthlessness, and the complete absence of mercy. But when he looked at him, something else was mixed into that gaze, and his master wasn’t even trying to hide it.

It was... disgust. The kind of look one would give something so completely beneath them.

Why? Has he not proven his loyalty already? He had even betrayed his best friends. So why the discrimination? Why was he still treated like this?

He wanted those answers more than anything.

Unfortunately for Peter, there was no such thing as Death Eater rights, and his master was a complete lunatic. Trying to make sense of his thinking would be a fool’s errand, and even Peter knew that much.

"Barty!"

Peter could only sigh and retreat into the background once more while the Death Eater in question stepped forward and dropped to his knees before the sofa that held the imp like figure.

"My master..."

"You have been monitoring him for quite a while now... Tell me, has he done anything that merits my attention?"

"No," Barty replied with his head lowered. Though he despised the Malfoy for cowering a decade ago, he understood well that Lucius was now the one carrying out the most crucial tasks for his master’s inevitable return. Therefore, he did not mince words and only spoke the truth.

"He has not failed you so far, my Lord. From what I have gathered, he has already secured a position among the Ministry personnel deployed to Hogwarts..."

"Not. Enough."

The infant-like creature slowly turned its head toward the fireplace, the flames of the hearth dancing in its snake-like eyes.

"Tell that coward that no matter what it takes, he must be on the field during the final round of that ridiculous competition."

"As you command, my master."

A suffocating silence settled over the dimly lit room.

"And the other matter I entrusted to you?"

Barty Crouch Jr. bowed his head slightly lower.

"It is... being handled, my Lord. We have begun negotiations with a Russian alchemist... named Boris."

A low, irritated sound escaped Voldemort. "Pray tell," he said slowly, "what complication requires my attention?"

Barty swallowed before continuing.

"It is simply... unusual, my Lord. He approached us first, before we made contact."

For a brief moment the fire crackled in the silence.

"Are you suggesting," Voldemort said slowly, "that our intentions have been leaked... again?"

"Unlikely, my Lord," Barty answered quickly. "But as you know, renowned alchemists tend to possess a certain... arrogance. So his eagerness to cooperate is somewhat suspicious."

Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed.

"And who does this... Boris, serve?"

"He is under the patronage of Archmage Volkov, my Lord."

"Volkov..." Voldemort murmured, his thin brows drawing together as he thought. "Interesting."

The firelight flickered in his snake-like eyes.

"Has he shown any... unnecessary curiosity?"

"N-no, my Lord. Quite the opposite. He claims the task can be done without them. Though... he does demand a considerable sum in gold."

Voldemort waved a thin hand dismissively.

"Then give him whatever he demands. Gold is but a trivial price to pay for our objective."

His voice dropped to a colder tone.

"But ensure one thing."

Barty stiffened slightly.

"He asks no questions."

Barty lifted his head for the briefest moment to look at the tiny figure upon the sofa, then lowered it again at once.

"As you command, my Lord."

"Everything must happen precisely," Voldemort murmured to no one in particular, turning his head slightly toward Barty Crouch Jr., who remained kneeling with his head lowered.

Since Bellatrix had gone... offline, every matter of importance had fallen to this devoted Death Eater of his. To his credit though, Barty Crouch Jr. was an extremely capable man. A madman, perhaps, with more than a few screws loose, but who among them wasn’t? And Barty, if anything, had carried out every order Tom Riddle gave him with meticulous precision.

Even in the original story, despite looking like he belonged in a mental asylum, he had managed to deceive everyone, even Dumbledore. If Barty had been nothing more than a madman without a clear mind, such a feat would have been impossible.

---

The audience looked like they had just experienced the time of their lives. Despite the higher ticket prices, none of them appeared dejected when the second task of the Triwizard Tournament concluded.

In addition to those present in the stadium, tens of thousands of people had also watched the performances live through magic vision. From dark and shady witches and wizards hiding inside abandoned mansions to the general wizarding public watching the competition from their living rooms, cafes, and pubs across magical Europe.

Just like the band of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself who watched the competition live, another party had also followed the event from beginning to end.

Inside the Nurmengard Fortress, two figures sat together. One of them was leisurely enjoying what appeared to be a bag of nuts, while the other, though also seated, looked as if he had little choice in the matter.

Grindelwald’s expression had not changed from beginning to the end, as observed by the man who accompanied him.

"A genius, wouldn’t you say, comrade? I wonder how he measures up to us in our youth..." he chuckled quietly. "Or more precisely, to you and your old friend."

"If you mean the descendant of the Potters, then yes," Grindelwald replied calmly. "He is indeed an exceptional talent. Out of the six so-called champions, he is the only child who showed anything noteworthy."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "A pity he must be educated by such indecisive people."

"Jehahaha!" Volkov burst out laughing. "Now that you mention it, wasn’t that Riddle fellow once taken in by your dear old friend too?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You’re absolutely right, comrade. A real pity."

Grindelwald said nothing for a moment, his expression remaining exactly the same. After a brief pause, he spoke again, steering the conversation elsewhere.

"When will you get me out of here?"

Volkov smiled, pulling a cigar from inside his coat and lighting it calmly. He exhaled a slow cloud of smoke. "I thought you would have seen it already... or has your foresight grown dull inside this gloomy tower?"

"Spare me your theatrics..."

"Ah... you truly are no fun." Volkov adjusted his coat and leaned back comfortably, a confident smile curled on his lips.

"We will make our move as well... precisely on the twenty fourth of June. We will let that lunatic cause a grand spectacle first, and when he has your dear old friend fully occupied..."

His smile widened slightly.

"That is when you break out."

"And the boy?" Grindelwald asked. "What about Garling?"

Volkov took another slow puff from his cigar before exhaling another cloud of smoke.

"All you need to do is keep that kid occupied. And while Dumbledore is busy dealing with Riddle..." he smiled faintly, "...I will take care of that fellow Garling." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Grindelwald raised a brow, perhaps the first change in his expression since the conversation began.

"And you are confident you can defeat the American?"

Volkov gave a short huff and rose from his chair. "I have my methods."

He brushed a bit of ash from his sleeve and smirked. "Lions are especially protective of their cubs, aren’t they?"

A heavy silence settled between them as the two men studied each other, until at last, Grindelwald let out a quiet hum and closed his eyes.

"So it’s true then... about you and him," he added quietly, opening his eyes again and fixing them on Volkov.

"Rather late for revenge, wouldn’t you say?"

Volkov’s smirk vanished, his expression briefly turning fierce at those words before he forced it back under control again, at least on the surface.

"It doesn’t matter to you, does it? As long as you get what you want, and I get—"

"Ah... don’t get me wrong," Grindelwald cut him off, a slow smile forming on his lips. "I have absolutely zero interest in your petty drama."

He closed his eyes again, the faint smile still lingering on his lips.

"And..." he added calmly, "it would be best if you avoided visiting the tower for the time being. It would be unfortunate if someone grew bored and decided to look inside, only to discover I have company."

Volkov studied the man who sat there so calmly despite being utterly imprisoned, an unreadable gleam passing through his eyes.

A moment later, he turned and walked away as well. When his back faced Grindelwald, his expression changed, a torrent of thoughts passing through his mind, while behind him, Grindelwald also half squinted his eyes as he watched his disappearing back.

Each of them had their own goals. And both were perfectly aware they were using the other.

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Author’s Note:

🔥 Drop those Power Stones! 🔥

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