Chapter 140 - – Malfoy Betrothal Ⅴ (1/2)

A group of hooded figures appears on the outskirts of an old manor in a thickly forested area. The manor is eerily dark despite the glittering fallen snow on the grounds. A wounded comrade falls to the ground as other press hands to their own wounds. ”We must get inside and tend to the wounded,” the stern voice of Rodolphus Lestrange ordered.

Not in any shape or form to argue the hooded figures staggered inside as the doors opened to reveal to rather cheerful siblings. ”Oh dear, it would seem that it didn't go so well,” the brother and sister Carrow simpered with evil glee.

”Move aside,” Rodolphus snapped as he shoved the annoying siblings aside. Alecto and Amycus gasped in disbelief as the rest of the Death Eaters pushed their way inside and out of the cold.

”Take care of the wounded,” Rodolphus barked as the pallid, doughy twins reluctantly turned towards the fallen in the hall.

Those that could stand despite their wounds followed Rodolphus into the great hall of the manor. Seated on the throne-like seat, the crimson eyed figure with deathly pale skin stares at them. ”Well, Lestrange?” Lord Voldemort impatiently asked.

Rodolphus Lestrange knelt before him and says, ”I've failed, milord.”

Rage fills Lord Voldemort's face as he points his wand at Lestrange. ”Crucio!” Rodolphus Lestrange withers on the floor in pain unable to keep himself from making whimpers, but at least refrained himself from screaming. The torture seems to go on for hours, but only mere minutes as Lestrange ceases to convulse and laid panting on his side.

”Dolohov!” Lord Voldemort roared as a bowed figure says, ”Yes, milord!”

”Why did you not aid, Lestrange?”

The hooded figure removes his mask to reveal his pale, cruel face. ”I would have, milord, but I found myself entangled with the Prince sister!”

”Crucio!” Lord Voldemort shouted again as Antonin Dolohov now began to twist in pain as his cruel features scrunched up into silent screams.

”A mere witch bested one of my best!” Lord Voldemort roared. ”And what about the rest of you?”

A tear-stained witch removed her mask as she said, ”Dark Lord, there were many members of the ministry of magic present. My poor Snyde is now dead.” The witch burst into loud sobs as none of the other death eaters dared to console her.

Whirling back onto Rodolphus Lestrange, Lord Voldemort hisses, ”And what of your excuse, Lestrange?”

Crawling back to kneel on his knees, Rodolphus Lestrange says, ”I had Abraxas Malfoy within my grasp, Dark Lord. But the Prince himself intervened and I could not best him.”

”Prince?” Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes. ”What Prince do you speak of?”

”Milord, the Prince's are an old family that rarely ever appears in public,” Rodolphus Lestrange cautiously said. ”But despite their being so few members they are most powerful and accomplished duelers. Reginald Prince, despite his older age he is still as powerful as in his youth. A most deadly accomplished duelist who took more than one life on his infamous claim to victory.”

”And the sister?”

”Georgine Prince is not a renowned duelist, Dark Lord,” Lestrange apologized and winced in pain at a tremor. ”But she is a Prince and is by nature rather talented as well.”

The silence grows as tensions mounts high as none of the Death Eater's dare breath lest they draw unwanted attention to themselves. The seconds seem to turn into minutes and the minutes into hours. At long last, one of the Death Eaters takes a step forward and kneels. ”Dark Lord, may I speak?” Bluntly said, a haughty domineering man with little patience for others.

”Go on, Yaxley,” Lord Voldemort said as he turned his crimson eyes onto the haughty hard-featured Death Eater.

Corban Yaxley proudly raised his pale face causing his blond hair tied back in a ponytail to swing lightly against his lower back. An unpleasant smile appears on his face as he says, ”Milord, the plan was perfect and would have succeeded if not for the incapability of Lestrange and Dolohov.” Antonin Dolohov bristles dangerously as Rodolphus Lestrange's face remains devoid of emotion.