The same process, the same pain, the same struggle.
Crabbe's body rolled, convulsed, and spasmed on the ground. For the first time, an expression appeared on his usually expressionless face—a contorted, painful, and near-collapsed look. He opened his mouth and let out a low, beast-like roar that echoed across the hills, startling a flock of crows perched in the distant trees. "How could this happen? This shouldn't be happening! What should I do?" Nott knelt beside him, watching Crabbe's horrific state, his young face filled with despair. He knew he would be next.
He wanted to escape, to run, to do anything to avoid what was about to happen. But he couldn't. He couldn't betray his master, couldn't disobey his master's orders. The day he joined the Death Eater, he had already given his life to Voldemort. He had no choice.
"Aaaaaah!"
Crabbe's struggles finally ceased. He lay on the ground, panting heavily, his body drenched in sweat. He opened his eyes—they were dark red, pupil-less eyes, just like Selwyn's. He slowly sat up, looked down at his hands, clenched his fist, then released it.
"How do you feel?" Voldemort asked.
Crabbe looked up at Voldemort. For the first time, an expression appeared on that usually expressionless face—not fear, not pain, but a devout, almost worshipful light. "Powerful, my My Lord." His voice was low and hoarse, carrying that same unfamiliar resonance, exactly like the one before him. "I feel... powerful."
Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. He turned to Nott.
Nott's face was ashen, his lips trembled violently, and his eyes were filled with fear and despair. He watched Voldemort raise his hand, watched the dark red light coalesce again, and watched the tentacles writhe within it. His body trembled, but he did not retreat, nor did he flee.
He simply knelt there, closed his eyes, and waited.
Yes, the light also fell on his forehead.
Nott's body stiffened abruptly, but he didn't scream or struggle; he simply gritted his teeth, enduring the indescribable pain. His body convulsed and spasmed on the ground, but he never uttered a groan.
Those tentacles wriggled beneath his skin, transforming his flesh, bones, and soul, but he simply kept his eyes closed, gritted his teeth, and endured it all. When the pain finally subsided, he lay on the ground, panting heavily, his body soaked in sweat. He opened his eyes—in those dark red, pupil-less eyes, there was no fear, no pain, only an empty, blank light, as if gazing at something receding into the distance.
He slowly sat up and looked down at his hands.
"How do you feel?" Voldemort asked.
Nott looked up at Voldemort. The fear and despair vanished from his young face, replaced by a devout, almost worshipful light. "Truly powerful, Master," he said, his voice hoarse and deep, carrying a strange resonance not his own. "I feel... powerful too." Voldemort looked at the three of them, a satisfied gleam in his three scarlet eyes.
"Very good," he said.
Bellatrix stood to the side, her eyes fixed on the three newly transformed Death Eater, a grotesque grin spreading across her lips. "Welcome," her voice was low and hoarse, carrying a morbid, almost tender satisfaction, "Welcome to be your master's apostles." Selwyn stood up, stretching his shoulders, feeling the new, icy power coursing through his body. The tentacles twitched slightly beneath his skin, sending a tingling, electric-like pleasure through him. He looked down at his hands, clenched his fist, then released it, a slow smile spreading across his face—not a forced, contrived smile, but a genuine, contented one. "I've never felt so good."
His voice held an incredulous, almost ecstatic emotion, "I used to be... so weak. So insignificant. I never knew that true power could make a person so..." He paused, as if searching for the right words.
"Complete," Crabbe chimed in, a smile also appearing on his usually expressionless face. "I feel more complete than ever before." Nott remained silent, looking down at his hands and then at his dark red, pupil-less eyes. A faint, satisfied smile played on his lips. Voldemort watched them, his three crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He had seen too many such transformations—from fear to resistance, from resistance to acceptance, from acceptance to ecstasy. Every time, it was the same. Every time, the outcome was the same.
"Now," he began, his voice calm and composed, "You have gained new power. Go and prove its worth."
He raised his hand, pointing to the town, to the gray stone house, and to the aged figure still standing by the window.
" Grindelwald is inside. Go and kill him."
Bellatrix's eyes blazed with an intense light, those eyes simultaneously lighting up, a dark red glow shimmering around her. A ferocious smile spread across her lips, her voice low and hoarse, carrying a morbid, almost manic excitement.
"Yes, Master."
She turned and walked down the mountain. Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott followed behind her, their steps firm, their eyes burning with the same light. Their wands were already in their hands, their spells ready. They were no longer the fearful, resistant Death Eater who wanted to run away. They were their master's apostles, the extension of the Deep Space into this world, Voldemort's sharpest blade. He paused, as if searching for the right word. "Complete," Crabbe picked up, a smile also appearing on his wooden face. "I feel more complete than ever before." Nott didn't speak, but looked down at his hands, at his dark red, pupil-less eyes. A faint, satisfied smile appeared on his lips. Voldemort looked at them, a satisfied gleam in his three scarlet eyes. He had seen too many such transformations—from fear to resistance, from resistance to acceptance, from acceptance to ecstasy. Every time, it was the same. Every time, the result was the same.
"Now," he began, his voice calm and composed, "You have gained new power. Go and prove its worth."
He raised his hand, pointing to the town, to the gray stone house, and to the aged figure still standing by the window.
" Grindelwald is inside. Go and kill him."
Bellatrix's eyes blazed with an intense light, those eyes simultaneously lighting up, a dark red glow shimmering around her. A ferocious smile spread across her lips, her voice low and hoarse, carrying a morbid, almost manic excitement.
"Yes, Master."
She turned and walked down the mountain. Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott followed behind her, their steps firm, their eyes burning with the same light. Their wands were already in their hands, their spells ready. They were no longer the fearful, resistant Death Eater who wanted to run away.
They are the master's apostles, the extension of the Deep Space into this world, and Voldemort's sharpest blade.
The four men hurried along the town's cobblestone streets, their steps quick and eager. The church bells were still ringing, sharp and piercing, but no one dared to come out. The Muggle huddled in houses, behind curtains, behind any cover they could find, trembling and praying that these uninvited guests would leave soon.
Bellatrix stopped in front of the gray stone house. All eyes turned to the black wooden door—it was closed, just as it had been, just as when she first came. But she could sense that Grindelwald was still inside, still in the living room, still by the fireplace, still waiting for them.
"He's still here," she said, her voice low and hoarse.
Selwyn stood behind her, his dark red, pupil-less eyes fixed on the door. "Shall we make a move?"
Bellatrix nodded. She raised her hand and placed it on the door.
The door was unlocked.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
In the living room, the fireplace was still burning, illuminating the entire room warmly and brightly. Grindelwald stood before the fireplace, his back to them, watching the flickering flames. He held no wand, wore no armor, and looked like an ordinary, aged, and unsuspecting old man.
Bellatrix looked at him, and those eyes blinked simultaneously.
" Grindelwald," she said, her voice low and hoarse, "Your death is near."
Grindelwald slowly turned around. His heterochromatic eyes calmly looked at them, at Bellatrix, at Selwyn, at Crabbe, at Nott, at those eyes, those dark red, pupilless eyes. His expression remained unchanged; he only sighed softly.
"Where is Voldemort?" His voice was hoarse and calm. "He didn't come?"
Bellatrix's smile froze for a moment.
"The master didn't need to come in person," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "We—his apostles—are enough." Grindelwald looked at her for a long time. Then he shook his head.
"He's still so cowardly." His voice carried a faint, almost pitying disappointment. "I thought he would at least come and see for himself. After all, he's waited for this day, for so long." Selwyn took a step forward, his dark red eyes burning with rage. "Shut up! Master isn't cowardly—he's just cautious! He's just—" "Just too afraid to come." Grindelwald interrupted him, his tone still calm. "He's afraid of me, afraid of Dumbledore, afraid of that Raven. He hides in the shadows, sending you pawns to die for him. He's always been like this—from fifty years ago until now, he's never changed."
Bellatrix's face turned ashen. Her eyes widened simultaneously, emitting a blinding dark red light.
"Shut up!" she shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing, carrying an eerie resonance as if countless voices were superimposed. "Master is great! Master is invincible! You—you old codger who's been locked in this tower for fifty years—what right do you have to judge Master?!"
She raised her hand, pointing her wand at Grindelwald. A thick, dark red beam of light shot from the tip of the wand, aiming straight for his chest!
Grindelwald dodged to the side. The beam struck the fireplace behind him, exploding with a deafening roar! Debris flew, flames shot out, and a huge hole was blasted in the wall, revealing the gray sky outside. Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott attacked simultaneously! Three dark red beams shot towards Grindelwald from different directions, blocking all his escape routes! Grindelwald moved swiftly through the living room, dodging the deadly attacks. His pace remained slow, but each step was perfectly timed—dodging one beam to the side, ducking to avoid another, leaping over the sofa, and landing just in time to dodge another dark red beam shooting from the side. The beams grazed his body, some striking the walls, some the ceiling, and some piercing the floor; the entire house trembled, and debris and dust rained down.
Bellatrix's attacks grew increasingly intense and frenzied. Her face was filled with excitement, her eyes blinking in unison, reflecting Grindelwald's dodging figure. "Dodge! Keep dodging!" she screamed, her voice filled with a morbid, almost manic pleasure. "Let's see how long you can hide!" Grindelwald stopped and stood in the center of the living room. He did not dodge anymore.
Bellatrix seized the opportunity, her wand pointing sharply forward—a thicker and more intense dark red beam of light shot from the tip, aimed directly at Grindelwald's chest! Grindelwald raised his hand.
There was no wand, no spell, only an old, wrinkled hand. The beam of light stopped before his palm, as if it had struck an invisible wall. It spun wildly, struggled, and hissed, but could not advance any further. Bellatrix's pupils contracted sharply. All the other eyes widened at the same time, watching this scene in disbelief.
"This... how is this possible?!"
Grindelwald looked at her, his heterochromatic eyes remaining calm. With a flick of his finger, the beam of light instantly changed direction, shooting towards Bellatrix at an even faster speed than before! Bellatrix screamed and fell heavily to the ground.
The beam of light grazed past her head, struck the wall behind her, and exploded with a deafening roar! The entire wall was blasted away, and debris and dust rained down like a storm, burying her completely in the rubble.
Selwyn, Crabbe, and Nott all retreated simultaneously, their faces pale and their eyes filled with fear.
Grindelwald stood amidst the ruins, looking at them, at those dark red, pupil-less eyes, at those faces transformed into something inhuman. His expression was calm, but complex emotions surged within his heterochromatic eyes.
"You may leave," he said, his voice hoarse but calm. "Tell Voldemort I've been waiting for him for a long time. But he hasn't come." He paused, then sighed softly.
I'm a little disappointed.
Bellatrix crawled out of the ruins, covered in dust, her hair disheveled, and her clothes torn.
Those eyes were still moving, still gleaming with a dark red light. She stared intently at Grindelwald, gritting her teeth, but made no further move.