The Dark Lord's Helplessness. Late at night, a shadow appeared out of thin air in a remote, filthy alley. It furtively looked around, then, after confirming no one was nearby, hurried deeper into the alley.
The wizard stopped before an old house. As he raised his hand to knock on the wooden door, he nervously scanned the surroundings. When the door opened with a creak, he slipped inside.
Once inside, the wizard seemed to relax. He glanced at the middle-aged man who had opened the door for him, then walked toward the roaring fireplace. Crouching beside an armchair, he said to the baby reclining in it, "Master, I'm back."
Voldemort opened his scarlet eyes and asked hoarsely, "Did you make contact?"
"Yes, I did."
As he spoke, Peter Pettigrew reached into his robe pocket, took out a letter, and opened it, preparing to read it to Voldemort. Noticing someone else in the hall, Peter drew his wand and waved it at the wizard, sending him elsewhere.
Little Barty's letter was a mess of everyday chatter, but Peter was able to pick out words from it and assemble them into a message.
To prevent Dumbledore from secretly inspecting the letters, they were now using the most primitive method of encryption.
Yes, entirely by hand, without any magic.
Though it was unlikely, if Dumbledore truly did so, no matter how clever the magic was, it would be difficult to hide it from his eyes.
"Little Barty hasn't been discovered yet, but Dumbledore already knows he's alive and believes he may be hiding at Hogwarts." Peter spent several minutes reading out the first passage he had just deciphered from the parchment. He secretly glanced at Voldemort before continuing. "He also mentioned Divination in the letter."
"Divination?"
There was an indescribable note in Voldemort's