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Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian : Ch. 262
🕑 Added 2024-10-18 18:38:21 +0000 UTCChapter 262: "The Dark Lord's Plan"
The night air was cold and still as Voldemort's high, chilling laughter echoed through the clearing. It was a sound that seemed to freeze the very air, wrapping everything in an aura of fear. As the laughter subsided, the tension remained. Barty Crouch Jr., still tense from the recent fight with Moody, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.
"My Lord," Junior ventured cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I may ask... why did you only stun the old Auror? Wouldn't it have been safer to, well, dispose of him?"
Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into a cruel smile. His eyes, like twin embers glowing in the night, flickered with dark amusement. "Ah, Barty. Sometimes fortune favors us in the most unexpected ways. Moody has unwittingly solved a problem that was plaguing our plans."
Peter Pettigrew, his rat-like features twisted with confusion, dared to speak, his voice trembling with fear. "What do you mean, Master? How has capturing Mad-Eye helped us?"
Voldemort's gaze snapped to Pettigrew, and the small man flinched visibly under that piercing stare. "While your incompetence in allowing Crouch to escape nearly caused a catastrophe," Voldemort said coldly, "it seems we have been granted a stroke of luck. Not only have we prevented a disaster, but we have also acquired a valuable asset in this old Auror."
Seeing Pettigrew's continued bewilderment, Voldemort waved a dismissive hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. "I'll explain the intricacies later, when we are safe from prying eyes and ears. For now, we must leave. We have lingered near Hogwarts for far too long." He turned to Junior, his tone allowing no argument. "Take Moody with us. We are returning to the hideout immediately."
Junior nodded obediently, but then hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "And what of my father, My Lord? He is still hidden in the bushes, unconscious."
Voldemort's gaze flickered towards the bush where he knew the unconscious form of Barty Crouch Sr. was hidden. For a moment, he seemed to consider abandoning the man. However, his calculating mind quickly assessed the risks. "Though he has outlived his usefulness, leaving him here would provide too many clues for Dumbledore and his meddlesome followers. Bring him along. We will decide his fate later."
With swift efficiency born of fear and devotion, Junior gathered the two stunned hostages. Moments later, the clearing was empty, save for the scorch marks on the trees and the disturbed earth that bore silent testimony to the night's events.
---
At the hideout, a decrepit manor house hidden beneath layers of protective enchantments, Voldemort wasted no time in sharing his revelation with his servants. Seated in a high-backed chair before a roaring fire, the Dark Lord's twisted form radiated malevolent energy as he spoke.
"Our plan to reach Charles Potter was flawed," he began, his high, cold voice filled with cruel excitement. "The map in Hadrian Potter's possession forced us to make compromises, introducing unnecessary risks. We needed Junior close to Charles, but doing so without revealing the truth to Hadrian was nearly impossible." His red eyes gleamed in the firelight as he delivered his conclusion. "Now, with Moody—who clearly has a close relationship with Charles—our chances of success have increased exponentially."
Crouch Jr. listened intently as Voldemort outlined the revised plan, his eyes shining with fanatical devotion. He would assume Moody's identity, using the Auror's position at Hogwarts to guide Charles Potter to the Triwizard Cup during the third task. "With Moody's identity," Voldemort hissed, "you can also make subtle moves to thwart Hadrian Potter from reaching the cup first."
"But, My Lord," Crouch Jr. interjected hesitantly, fearing his master's wrath but needing clarification, "I know nothing of Moody's recent activities at Hogwarts or his secrets. The deception could easily be discovered. Surely, Dumbledore will see through it."
Voldemort's cruel smile widened, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. "That is easily remedied, my faithful servant. With skillful mind magic, I will extract the necessary memories from Moody. You will have everything you need to maintain the charade." His tone turned dismissive. "Dumbledore is not the threat you imagine. The old fool is too preoccupied with his own matters and will likely not notice anything if you avoid spending too much time with him. Use excuses—say you are investigating something. I know Dumbledore well; he will not suspect."
As they delved into the plan's finer details, Pettigrew nervously attempted to interject, perhaps hoping to redeem himself in his master's eyes. Voldemort's response was swift and merciless—a Cruciatus Curse that left Wormtail writhing on the floor, his screams echoing through the dilapidated manor.
"Your incompetence nearly ruined everything, Wormtail," Voldemort snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Gaining Moody does not mean you are forgiven. Be grateful I still have use for you."
When Pettigrew finally managed to catch his breath, he asked about the Marauder's Map and how Moody's presence solved their problem. Voldemort's eyes glittered with malicious triumph as he gave his command. "Fetch the stone from my chamber, Wormtail."
Pettigrew's confusion was evident as he stammered, "The stone, My Lord? The toy you've been... playing with?"
Another Cruciatus Curse struck Pettigrew, more powerful than the last. As the rat-like man's screams subsided into whimpers, Voldemort's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Fool! I am not a child to play with toys. That stone is the key to our success. I have been enchanting it since you informed me about that infernal map."
Voldemort explained that the stone, once bound to Junior, would render him undetectable to magical tracking, including the Marauder's Map. "It is not foolproof in that it will completely remove you from the map, which, if not handled well, would lead to suspicions," he admitted, his tone calculating. "However, combined with careful planning, it will suffice."
With the plan set, Voldemort turned his attention to their captive. "Enervate," he hissed, and Moody's eye snapped open. The grizzled Auror found himself staring at a bizarre scene: Pettigrew cowering in a corner, Crouch Jr. looking triumphant, and the grotesque, infant-like creature perched on a chair. The same baby-like figure whose spell had caught him off guard and led to his capture.
Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly as he took in his surroundings. He had been caught off guard because he had not expected the strange creature to be capable of casting spells so effectively. The spell had come fast, and even as Moody realized what was happening, it was too late. "Quite the gathering we have here," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Catching an old man like me in a sneak attack. Pettigrew, you sniveling rat. And young Crouch—not so dead after all, I see. It seems old Barty has been keeping secrets."
His gaze then settled on the creature in the chair. "And you must be some kind of failed garden gnome. Not much of a master if you need a sneak attack to beat me."
The creature's red eyes flashed with fury. "You dare mock—"
But Pettigrew, indignant at the insult, cut in. "That's the Dark Lord, you fool! Show some respect!"
Moody's bark of laughter filled the room, echoing with defiance. "The Dark Lord? This scrawny thing? Looks like a half-boiled potato to me. Is this what became of Voldemort after that night? This is a memory I'll cherish every time I cast a Patronus."
Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously, his small form seeming to swell with rage. "You dare mock Lord Voldemort?"
Moody's laughter only grew louder. "Lord? You look more like a failed potion experiment. What's wrong, Voldy? Couldn't make it past the afterlife's front gate, so they sent you back like this?"
Voldemort raised his wand, fury etched on his serpentine features, but he hesitated. He needed Moody alive for the Polyjuice to work. This moment of restraint did not go unnoticed by the seasoned Auror.
Moody, sensing Voldemort's reluctance, pressed on. He wasn't afraid of death; what scared him was being used in some twisted plan. His voice carried a mocking edge as he addressed Pettigrew again. "Tell me, Wormtail, does he need changing often? Must be exhausting, babysitting 'The Dark Lord.'"
Pettigrew spluttered, but Voldemort silenced him with a glare that promised further punishment.
Turning back to Voldemort, Moody continued his taunts. "Go ahead, finish me off. Or are you too weak for even that? The great Lord Voldemort, reduced to this pathetic state. It would be funny if it weren't so sad."
Voldemort's patience snapped. "Crucio!" he screeched, his voice high and filled with fury.
The curse hit Moody like a sledgehammer. His body convulsed, every nerve ending aflame with pain, but he refused to scream. Through gritted teeth, he managed to growl, "Is that all you've got, Babymort? How do you like the new name? I just came up with it."
Voldemort lifted the curse, his red eyes gleaming with a mixture of fury and reluctant admiration. "You're a fool, Alastor Moody. But a brave one. It's almost a pity we need you alive."
Moody, panting and in agony but still defiant, spat back, "Whatever you're planning, Babymort, it won't work. Better wizards than you have tried to break me."
Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a sinister smile. "We shall see, Moody. We shall see."
As dawn approached, Voldemort began extracting Moody's memories, his wand delving into the Auror's mind with brutal efficiency. Crouch set about brewing a fresh batch of Polyjuice Potion, the bubbling cauldron filling the room with acrid fumes. Pettigrew, still reeling from his earlier punishment, tended to Voldemort's weakened form, his movements skittish and fearful.
Hours passed in grim labor, the silence broken only by Moody's occasional grunts of pain and the cauldron's bubbling. As the first rays of sunlight began creeping over the horizon, Voldemort made a final discovery in Moody's memories. "This will solve our last problem," he declared triumphantly. "A special trunk that can shrink and contain people. Place Moody inside, shrink it, and keep it with you. His name will appear on the map wherever you go. Hadrian Potter will suspect nothing."
Voldemort's eyes gleamed with malice. "That boy has been a thorn in my side for far too long. Once I regain my body, he will learn the price of meddling in my plans."
Crouch Jr. meticulously went through the extracted memories, absorbing everything needed for the deception. Once satisfied, and after thorough testing from Voldemort, he took a new dose of Polyjuice Potion. The transformation was excruciating, his body twisting and reshaping into the form of the grizzled Auror.
As he adjusted to his new appearance, fitting on the wooden leg and magical eye, Junior examined himself with grim satisfaction. "This eye is quite useful," he muttered in Moody's gruff voice. "I think I'll keep it once this is over."
With Moody's memories, the shrunken trunk containing the real Auror secured in his pocket, and the enchanted stone concealed on his person, Crouch Jr. was ready to return to Hogwarts to begin the next phase of their plan.
Before he left, there was one last piece of unfinished business. From the corner of the room, a muffled grunt drew everyone's attention. Barty Crouch Sr. was stirring, slowly regaining consciousness. Voldemort's gaze turned to Junior, his tone cold and commanding. "He has outlived his usefulness, Barty. Deal with him."
Without hesitation, Crouch Jr. dragged his father from the room, his face betraying no emotion. Moments later, a flash of green light from the corridor confirmed the deed was done. When Junior returned, there was no mention of his father—only the silence of those who knew there was no turning back.
With Moody's appearance and memories, the shrunken trunk containing the real Auror securely in his pocket, and the protective stone hidden on his person, Crouch Jr. was ready to return to Hogwarts and begin the next phase of their plan.
As Crouch Jr. disapparated with a sharp crack, Voldemort allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The game had changed, but once again, the pieces were aligned in his favor. Victory, he felt certain, was now within his grasp. Soon, he would regain his body, and the wizarding world would tremble before him once more.
Comments
Ryan
Harry may be too distracted and get fooled here, hope Moody makes it but who knows
