In the past, the Death Eaters seemed even more incompetent due to the likes of Pettigrew and Karkaroff!
If they had members like Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix or Grindelwald's Acolytes, would conquering Europe and sweeping the world really be that difficult?
However, this was also because the Dark Lord initially chose the toughest target, the British magical community. Otherwise, the Death Eaters' influence might have been on par with Grindelwald's Acolytes.
Of course, young Barty didn't think this was Voldemort's fault. On the contrary, he believed Voldemort's focus on Britain from the start was correct because the Dark Lord knew his greatest obstacle lay in Britain—
Albus Dumbledore!
No matter how much young Barty detested him, he had to acknowledge Dumbledore's power. However, even the one who defeated Grindelwald couldn't defeat the Dark Lord, right?
If it weren't for that prophecy, who knows what today might have become!
Young Barty remained full of confidence in Voldemort, and this confidence was not unfounded. He had witnessed Voldemort's power firsthand.
The mere fact that no one dared to speak his name spoke volumes.
Though it was because Voldemort had cursed his name, even after Voldemort's "death" for over a decade and the scattering of the Death Eaters, his name still struck fear, which said a lot.
Young Barty managed his father's work from the office, surprisingly showing great competence. He handled the Ministry's affairs quite well. By the afternoon, as expected, Fudge came to discuss the Triwizard Tournament with him.
His face stiffened as he looked at Fudge with displeasure. "This is my job. I will contact the French Ministry of Magic and the Scandinavian authorities."
In fact, this was exactly what he wanted.
Dumbledore wanted to seek international support, and Barty Jr didn't intend to let the Death Eaters remain confined to the small area of Britain like before.
After sending off the portly Fudge, Barty Jr dropped his disguise and lazily lounged in his chair, pondering his next steps.
"The most urgent task is to find a way to resurrect the Dark Lord; otherwise, we will never have the strength to confront Dumbledore. And we must also keep an eye on that impostor." Barty Jr quickly made his decision.
The next day, when Barty Crouch returned to the Ministry of Magic for work, everyone thought he seemed a bit confused.
Barty Jr had cast the Imperius Curse on his father, forcing him to work for the Dark Lord. Meanwhile, he himself had set his sights on Remus Lupin.
Few knew that the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin, was a werewolf.
Of course, this was no secret to Voldemort, as a traitor had once handed over all of Lupin's information to him.
"Werewolf, hmph!" Barty Jr muttered disdainfully as he walked through the dark forest. In the bright moonlight, he stopped and looked at a solitary wooden hut from a distance.
That was the Shrieking Shack, a famous haunted house in the British magical community.
About twenty years ago, terrifying legends began to spread about this place. On nights of the full moon, terrifying howls echoed from within, making people wonder if some monster was trapped inside.
Now, that monster was back!
"The Dark Lord said that werewolf will drink the potion Snape made and stay here for an entire week." Barty Jr didn't approach recklessly.
The Wolfsbane Potion could keep a werewolf conscious during transformation, but it wouldn't weaken the werewolf's strength. Young Barty didn't dare fight a rational werewolf.
Like other magical creatures, werewolves had excellent resistance to magic. Ordinary spells had little effect on them, and even many dark spells only momentarily halted a werewolf's charge.
Moreover, werewolves moved very quickly, and young Barty couldn't guarantee his spells would hit.
Now, he had to wait for daylight.
Leaning against a sturdy tree trunk, Barty Jr closed his eyes.
On a January night, the weather was still very cold, and the snow in the forest had not melted at all. Remus Lupin curled his gaunt body, looking at the moonlight streaming through the window.
His body didn't feel cold at all, but his heart was filled with immense sorrow.
The Wolfsbane Potion allowed werewolves to maintain their sanity during transformation, greatly reducing the risk of werewolves inadvertently harming other wizards during their madness.
It was like a salvation potion.
In this regard, Lupin was very grateful to the wizard Damocles Belby, who invented the Wolfsbane Potion, and even more grateful to Snape, who, despite past grudges, brewed the potion for him.
However, from another perspective, for a wizard like Lupin, who was unfortunately infected with lycanthropy, staying conscious and watching himself transform into a monster was another kind of torment.
In the past, during his transformations, he couldn't see what he looked like and didn't have to contemplate the misery of being a werewolf.
But now, everything was laid bare before his eyes.
Lupin lowered his head and glanced at his thick, fur-covered arm, eyes filled with sorrow for his fate. Despite Dumbledore's generosity and trust, it didn't change the fact that he was an outcast.
And a dangerous monster at that!
Even unintentionally, a werewolf's claws could harm innocent people.
Lupin thought of Sirius and the pleasant time he had spent with Harry recently, feeling both happy and fearful.
If his true identity were discovered, he feared he would once again be condemned to a life of wandering without a home.
For this, Lupin felt even more grateful to Snape.
Although Snape had always found ways to let the young wizards know his identity when he substituted for Defense Against the Dark Arts last term, he had never outright revealed it. This, to Lupin, was a considerable kindness.
As for now, with Sirius taking over the teaching position, Lupin had even less to worry about.
As he was lost in thought, Lupin noticed that the fur on his arms was starting to recede, and his thick body was becoming lean again.
He raised his head, touched the not-so-smooth skin on his face, and looked outside the window, where the light had become even more dazzling.
It was dawn!
The werewolf weakly stood up, leaving all his burdens behind, and slowly walked out into the bright snowy ground.
He turned back and saw a small shadow huddled in a dark corner of the shack, hugging its knees. That was his timid self.
Lupin grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to his face, the biting cold making him feel more alert. He took a step forward, the sound of his footsteps crunching on the flattened snow.
The Forbidden Forest in the heavy snow was very quiet, except for a sudden spell:
"Stupefy!"
As everyone knows, the Defense Against the Dark Arts is a cursed subject!
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