"Deathly Hallows?" Barty Crouch Jr. furrowed his brow, his gaze sweeping over Calchas. "You're saying Calchas was harmed by the 'Deathly Hallows'? How is that possible?"
Like "Limbo," the term "Deathly Hallows" was unfamiliar to Voldemort.
Hearing Barty Crouch Jr. take the initiative to question them, his slightly raised brows relaxed.
The advantage of having a loyal servant showed itself at times like this. When faced with unexpected situations, he could maintain his composure more easily and preserve his dignity and authority.
Calchas struggled on the ground, letting out pained groans, yet no one offered him any help.
The veins covering his face had faded away, though blood still streamed from the corners of his eyes. As he struggled, he smeared it all across his face.
"How is that possible?" Herpo sneered. "Then what do you think the 'Deathly Hallows' are? Have you ever seen them?"
Barty Crouch Jr. crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, his tone thick with disdain. "They're nothing more than a few foolish props from a stupid children's story!"
"Though there does seem to be a group of people... who call themselves the Acolytes. Their lifelong pursuit is the so-called three 'Deathly Hallows.'"
"According to those so-called Acolytes, as long as someone gathers all three 'Deathly Hallows,' they can become... what was it? The Master of Death?"
"If you ask me..." He deliberately drew out the last word, raising his brows even higher. "It's nothing but a joke!"
Voldemort pursed his lips. At least as far as he remembered, he had never heard of any so-called children's story related to this.
What interested him more was the final thing Barty Crouch Jr. had mentioned—the one who gathered all three Deathly Hallows could become the Master of Death.
For him, his pursuit was immortality. If immortality