After absorbing every last drop of Barty Crouch Jr.'s blood, the stone wall rapidly thinned until it vanished completely.
In place of the stone wall stood the outline of an archway.
The archway's outline slowly emerged from the darkness, radiating an incomparably dazzling white light.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly, casually acknowledged Barty Crouch Jr., then stepped forward again and strode through the archway, a hint of impatience in his gaze.
Barty Crouch Jr. hurriedly scrambled to his feet and quickened his pace to catch up with Voldemort.
As he ventured deeper into the passage within the archway's outline, Barty Crouch Jr. felt a distinct dampness. Even the air he breathed became clammy. Clearly, something else lay at the end of the passage.
"Damn it!"
Barty Crouch Jr. had only just caught sight of a glimmer of water when he heard Voldemort roar.
The roar carried a fury unlike anything he had ever heard before, shaking the passage itself as loose stones rained down from overhead.
Violent magical fluctuations exploded from Voldemort like a hurricane, sweeping straight at Barty Crouch Jr.'s face.
Caught off guard, Barty Crouch Jr. was immediately blown backward by the violent magical force. In the next moment, his feet left the ground, and he was hurled through the air, his back slamming heavily into the rock.
He struggled to rise, his palm groping wildly across the ground. Terror showed in his eyes, and even his lips trembled.
It was the first time he had ever seen Voldemort so completely lose control.
In his memories, Voldemort had always seemed utterly composed.
As for that speech at Heroes' Square, Barty Crouch Jr. considered it nothing more than an accident. If Dumbledore had not been so despicable, Voldemort should have delivered a grand speech announcing his return.
"Dumbledore! Wizet!"