"Master, these are the comrades I selected." Barty Crouch Jr. approached with twelve black-robed figures and asked softly.
Voldemort nodded very seriously. Then, right in front of Barty Crouch, he cast a disdainful glance at the group of Death Eaters Barty Crouch Jr. had scraped together by picking the tallest of the short.
The meaning behind that expression was remarkably frank.
They wanted to accomplish great things with this lot?
What wishful thinking.
Before long, they all mounted their broomsticks and flew toward Azkaban.
At this time, Kayson had not even gotten out of bed yet.
Snape's intelligence had been extremely useful. For example, Voldemort had completely abandoned his original strategy of sneaking in quietly and striking without a sound.
After all, Voldemort was desperately short on manpower right now. Karkaroff's return after being lost had originally been a good thing. Keeping Karkaroff alive could offer a sliver of reassurance to the scattered Death Eaters who had fled, encouraging them to return to his side.
It would let them know that the Dark Lord was merciful.
Unfortunately, for some reason, Karkaroff had implicated Snape. And since the old bastard had indeed come with a mission from Dumbledore, he could only die.
Even a latecomer Death Eater like Karkaroff had died. This made the Death Eaters hiding outside even more terrified. It was unrealistic to drag them all out from every corner of the world, so the only timely reinforcements Voldemort had now were the utterly loyal Death Eaters in Azkaban.
And now they were saying that the Phoenix planned to pull the rug out from under him, mince the Death Eaters in Azkaban into meat before he could reach them. How could he possibly allow that?
Wouldn't that be taking Voldemort's very life?
So he hurriedly had Barty Crouch Jr.