With Barty Crouch Jr.'s understanding of Voldemort, no matter what he said at a time like this, it would only make Voldemort's mood even worse...
He understood this kind of silent oppression all too well.
Back when he was still studying at Hogwarts and had not yet regarded Voldemort as his master, he had experienced something similar from his father, Old Barty Crouch.
Whenever an Auror was killed, or a Muggle gathering place was destroyed, Old Barty Crouch would come home with just such an expression, solemnly mulling things over, never explaining anything to him.
The moment he asked anything, Old Barty Crouch would simply send him away and tell him to focus on his studies.
Yet no matter how good his grades were, Old Barty Crouch still kept that official, businesslike air. As long as something had anything to do with work, he would not tell him the slightest thing about it.
Just as Barty Crouch Jr. had thought, Voldemort was indeed in a very bad mood right now.
Those possibilities that, to him, still held a sliver of hope were swiftly being denied by cold reality as the small boat gradually reached Lake Heart Island.
He looked out over Lake Heart Island, but he could not see any trace of a struggle at all, nor any corpse. There was only the stone pillar standing in the center of the island, with a stone basin atop it.
Although even the best possibilities had already been denied, Voldemort still let out a long breath and placed his last hope inside the stone basin.
Even though he knew the hope was slim, he still wanted to see it with his own eyes and confirm whether that Horcrux was still inside.
In any case, he would not be the one drinking the