"Harley Potter?"
Barty Crouch Jr. stared at the girl floating in midair, his voice full of shock.
His expression shifted repeatedly, passing through fear, anxiety, anger, and confusion.
But in the end, Barty Crouch Jr.'s expression settled into calm.
He glanced from the corner of his eye at the spot where the Six-Wizard Tournament's champion's cup had been, then quickly looked away, afraid Harley might notice.
Harley sat in midair, taking it all in.
She didn't say anything, though. She merely watched Barty Crouch Jr. with amusement, gently swinging her feet.
After shaking his head hard to clear it, Barty Crouch Jr. asked in as calm a voice as he could manage,
"Strange. Weren't you hit by all those spells I cast? You should be lying on the ground, unable to move."
Hearing him, Harley smiled and shook her head, then snapped her fingers casually.
"My dear Death Eater, what are you thinking? Your spells were so weak and feeble. How could they possibly affect me?"
"Impossible!" Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice rose, anger creeping into it.
"Even my great master praised my magical ability. He considers me one of the most powerful wizards in the world."
"Are you questioning my master's judgment—the judgment of the greatest Dark Lord in the world?"
Harley couldn't help rubbing her temples. What was going on?
Why was Barty Crouch Jr.'s anger so strange?
Still, it was understandable. She really couldn't fathom the minds of these fanatics.
Harley sighed, her voice tinged with exasperation and teasing.
"Yes, yes. Your master, dear Voldemort, is incredibly accomplished in magic."
"Wait... who was it that defeated him before? Wasn't it... me, when I was only a year old—a baby?"
"Oh, how powerful! He really is the greatest Dark Lord in the world!"
Harley's words struck Barty Crouch Jr.