Barty Crouch Jr. wasn't stupid enough to let the people from the Ministry of Magic help him look for Voldemort.
Every night at midnight, he would sneak out alone, wrapped in a cotton cloak, and wander around in the hope of finding his master.
Fortunately, Albania wasn't large, and wizards could Apparate. After blindly searching for seven or eight days, he finally found something.
"Here!"
The Dark Mark on his left arm burned fiercely, and Barty's face lit up with joy.
It had been over ten years. At last, he would return to his master's side.
"Master, your servant, Barty Crouch, calls to you with trepidation."
Using the method unique to the Death Eaters, Barty activated the Mark on his left arm.
As he called out, the burning sensation grew stronger and stronger.
Strangely, though, Voldemort didn't appear.
The Black Forest before him looked like a gaping maw, waiting to devour any reckless outsider who wandered in.
"What's this?"
A trace of confusion crossed Barty's face.
By rights, his master should have heard his call.
If so, why was he hiding from Barty?
Could something have happened?
At that thought, he seemed to make up his mind. He pulled his cloak tighter, gripped his wand, and stepped into the pitch-black forest.
"Oooooo..."
The cold wind howled through the branches, like a banshee sobbing softly.
This forest was far too eerie. Even Barty, a hardened man who had killed his own father, felt a chill creeping over him.
"Master? Master, are you there?"
Calling Voldemort's name in a low voice, Barty tensed and warily scanned his surroundings.
Now he understood why his master had chosen this place.
Ordinary people wouldn't dare come here!
"Grrrr!"
As he inched forward, the cries of some beast suddenly rang out all around him.
The hairs