The air in Moody's Office was somewhat oppressive.
Barty Crouch Jr. clutched his burning left arm with one hand and braced the other against the scratched desk, panting heavily.
The searing pain of the Dark Mark had faded.
But his master's orders, laden with humiliation, anger, and impatience, still echoed in his mind.
Act at once!
At any cost!
Bring Potter before me!
Barty Crouch Jr. slowly straightened. The leg he kept lame as part of his disguise had cramped from the intense pain earlier, and now genuinely ached and tingled.
The patience he prided himself on, his plan to guide Harry Potter toward the finish line step by step.
In his master's eyes, it was merely a game that wasted time.
A fury mingled with shame and humiliation burned in his chest.
He had thought himself a player, only to discover that he was not even a piece.
He was merely a stone his master casually threw to smash the board after losing patience.
"Calm down..."
He growled to himself in Moody's hoarse voice.
"I have to stay calm."
He limped over to the window and looked out at the grounds bathed in afternoon sunlight.
Through the thick glass, the students' laughter sounded distant and unreal.
His blue magical eye spun uncontrollably in its socket, scanning every corner of the Castle.
The plan had fallen apart.
That reliable plan to steer Harry Potter toward the third task without his knowing had fallen apart completely.
He had to find another way.
A more direct, faster way, with even less regard for the consequences.
Just then, a faint tapping interrupted his thoughts.
An owl was gently tapping its beak against his office window.
Tied to its leg was a roll of parchment sealed with the Ministry of Magic's official wax seal.