(Barty Crouch Jr)
It was Christmas, and I found myself standing in the middle of a frozen forest in Albania, surrounded by an endless expanse of skeletal trees and untouched snow that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Snow crunched beneath my boots with every step I took, the sound unnaturally loud in the suffocating silence that blanketed the forest, as if the world itself had been muted. The trees loomed tall and lifeless around me, their branches stripped bare by winter, casting long, twisted shadows across the white ground that resembled grasping hands reaching out from beneath the snow.
The cold did not bother me, not in the slightest.
It was nothing compared to Azkaban, nothing compared to the bone-deep chill that seeped into the soul within those cursed walls, where hope itself withered and died.
It was nothing compared to the years I had spent shackled under my father's control, my will smothered and suppressed beneath the relentless, suffocating pressure of the Imperius Curse, forced to exist as little more than a puppet in my own body.
I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog into the frigid air before dissipating into nothingness, much like the countless years that had been stolen from me.
For the past few days, I had been searching relentlessly, combing through this country with unwavering determination, following every whisper, every trace, every rumor no matter how insignificant it seemed. And finally… yesterday, after days of fruitless wandering, I had found something.
A lead.
The nearest town had been buzzing with hushed conversations and fearful glances, its inhabitants whispering about disappearances and strange sightings, about shadows that moved where nothing should exist and presences that could be felt but never seen.
And, of course, the usual idiocy.
"Evil spirits," they said, clinging desperately to their ignorance.
A quiet, humorless chuckle escaped my lips at the thought.
Filthy Muggles; ignorant, blind, pathetic creatures who hid behind superstition because they lacked the capacity to comprehend the truth standing right in front of them.
Just thinking about having to walk among them, to speak to them, to pretend even the slightest bit of civility in their presence, made my skin crawl with disgust and filled me with an almost overwhelming urge to kill.
And yet, I endured it.
I would endure anything for Him.
Always for Him.
My fingers twitched slightly at my side, a faint, restless motion that betrayed the anticipation building within me.
Then, suddenly, a burning sensation flared across my forearm, sharp and undeniable, and I froze in place as my breath caught in my throat.
Slowly, deliberately, I pushed back my sleeve, revealing the mark etched into my skin.
The Dark Mark writhed beneath the surface like a living thing, the skull and serpent shifting and twisting as if animated by some unseen force, radiating heat that spread through my arm and into my chest… calling to me.
My lips slowly curled into a delighted, almost reverent smile.
"…My Lord."
A soft, wet sound broke the silence of the forest, followed by the unmistakable noise of something heavy slithering across the snow, its movement smooth and deliberate.
I lifted my gaze, my heart pounding with anticipation, and there it was.
A massive snake emerged from between the trees, its long body gliding effortlessly over the frozen ground, leaving a faint trail in the snow behind it. Its scales were dark, nearly blending into the surrounding shadows, but its eyes…
Its eyes burned with a deep, unnatural red that seemed to pierce straight through me.
Recognition surged within me, sharp and intoxicating, flooding my veins with excitement.
Ah…
What a perfect Christmas gift.
Right on time.
I stepped forward, already composing myself, already slipping into the role I needed to play, my expression shifting seamlessly into one of reverence and devotion.
Then, without hesitation, I dropped to one knee, bowing my head deeply in submission.
"My Lord," I said, allowing just the right amount of tremor to enter my voice, carefully crafted to sound genuine. "I finally found you."
My hands clenched slightly at my sides as I let emotion seep into my tone, each word measured and deliberate.
"I knew you couldn't be dead."
Slowly, I lifted my head, allowing the fanaticism to show in my eyes, letting it burn brightly enough to be convincing.
Let him see devotion.
Let him see blind loyalty.
Let him see exactly what he expected to see.
"Barty…"
The voice that emerged from the snake's mouth was low and cold, carrying an unnatural quality that did not belong to the creature speaking it, and yet it was unmistakably human.
For a brief moment, a flicker of curiosity crossed my mind as I considered the impossibility of it.
How was such a thing even possible?
But the thought faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
It didn't matter.
It was magic, the answer to everything that could not be explained by ordinary means.
"I thought you were dead," the snake continued, its red eyes fixed intently on me.
I lowered my gaze slightly, adopting a posture of humility and respect.
"It was my father," I replied, allowing a trace of bitterness to creep into my voice, just enough to make the story believable.
"At my dying mother's request, he rescued me from Azkaban… only to imprison me himself."
The memories surfaced unbidden, the crushing weight of control pressing down on my mind, day after day after day, an endless cycle of suppression and helplessness.
I forced them down ruthlessly, regaining my composure before they could affect my performance.
"I was kept under his Imperius Curse all these years," I continued, my voice steady once more.
I allowed a brief pause to linger, letting the weight of my words settle.
"But he underestimated me."
A faint smile touched my lips, subtle yet deliberate.
"I learned. I adapted."
"And when the curse was at its weakest… right before he attempted to recast it… I struck."
I mimed the motion slightly, as though reliving the moment.
"I ripped the wand from his hand."
My voice dropped, growing colder.
"And I killed him with it."
Silence followed, broken only by the faint whisper of wind weaving its way through the dead branches overhead.
"I have spent every moment since then searching for you," I said, lifting my head fully now, my gaze locking onto his with unwavering intensity. "Following rumors, chasing shadows, refusing to believe you were truly gone."
"I knew you were alive."
"And here I am."
I straightened slightly, letting devotion radiate from every word, every movement.
"Ready to serve you with all my might."
The snake remained still, its red eyes studying me with a cold, calculating intelligence that missed nothing.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity.
Then…
"Welcome back."
A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face, carefully controlled yet genuine enough to pass scrutiny.
"You arrived at the perfect time," he continued. "I find myself… in need of assistance."
Of course you do.
"With you by my side, it won't be long before Lord Voldemort is restored to full power."
Ah.
There it was.
I lowered my head once more, concealing the expression that threatened to betray me; a brief, sharp sneer that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
It was so easy.
So incredibly easy.
This creature, this shadow wearing my master's name, was nothing like him, not even close to the true Dark Lord I served.
But that did not matter.
Not yet.
All I needed was proximity, access, and the right opportunity.
I lifted my head again, my expression once more the picture of unwavering devotion.
"Then command me, my Lord," I said smoothly, my voice steady and resolute. "I am yours."
Inwardly, however, my thoughts turned cold and precise, every step of the path ahead already beginning to take shape.
First, I needed to earn his trust.
Then, I needed to find a way to bring him back somewhere more suitable, somewhere secure.
A place where the real plan could begin.
Where everything could finally be set in motion.
My smile deepened ever so slightly, a glint of something darker flickering beneath the surface.
Christmas, after all, was the season of miracles.
And I intended to deliver one.
…
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