Chapter 305 - Ophelia Ⅱ (1/2)

The pack swiftly vanished into the shadows of the forest and was simply gone. Exhausted Ophelia tiredly sits down on the forest ground right next to her lover. She patiently waits for HIM to arrive.

Feeling the end drawing closer, Ophelia dries her blade on tree leaves, before slipping the silver blade into her clothes. Safely hidden away, she knows that that the dark wizards will be coming soon once again, and they would arrive before the moon reached the peak in the night sky.

Ophelia closed her eyes and tiredly leaned against the tree trunk to continue to wait and briefly rest. Poor Timothy nor any of the pack could not truly understand as to why she had killed her lover, Weiss. None of them had ever killed an innocent, but she had. She had killed to protect her pack, killed to survive, and killed under orders from their deceased slave master, and the foul wizard that they still had continued to serve under.

Unlike Timothy and the rest of the pack, she knew with absolute certainty in her heart that she was just as abhorrent as the dark wizards that lived inside the manor filled with the stench of evil. But Timothy and the rest of the pack were still innocent enough, and therefore could still be saved. The same could not have been said for herself and her beloved, Weiss.

Ophelia is jostled out of her inner thoughts by loud elephant-like footsteps that can easily be heard throughout the woods. Two panting figures steadily approach to reveal the first being a stocky witch with stubby fingers, Alecto Carrow wheezing out, ”Wolf!”

Ophelia ignored the witch until the pudgy, dough-like brother, Amycus Carrow snarled, ”Stupid mutts, where are you?!”

Ophelia soundlessly rises from her seat on the ground and brushed the dirt off clothes. Striding silently through the woods like a ghost she appeared from out of nowhere before the pair of brother and sister causing them to stumble in panic and reach for their wands. ”Yes, you called?” Ophelia distantly answered in reply.

Alecto wrinkled her nose at the sweaty scent of the female werewolf. ”Foul mutt, you need a bath!”

”Foul mutt,” Amycus giggled at his sister's joke.

”I can bathe, if you will so very kindly allow me the use of your bathing facilities,” Ophelia calmly replied.

”I'll not have any of your foulness polluting my home,” Alecto said aghast in disgust. ”Where is your wretched leader?”

”He has already started the next phase of his journey,” Ophelia impassively answered.

”You have blood on your clothes,” Amycus wisely pointed out.

”As I said before he is on the next step of his journey,” Ophelia dully repeated.

”Savages,” Alecto swore with utter glee. ”Your master bids you to come.”

Ophelia does not reply and merely follows after the Carrow duo. The manor is quiet as they enter and traverse through the halls and into the stone hall, where the evil skeleton-like wizard resides. All around the room kneel like fawning courtiers are the dark-robed wizards that serve the Dark Lord.

Ophelia's nose waters at the strong overpowering stench of dark magic. Several figures lay twitching on the ground having been cursed with the Cruciatus curse. Ophelia carefully keeps her gaze on the chin of the crimson-eyed evil wizard. He could read their thoughts through their eyes; she could smell the twisted scent of magic on him whenever he did so.

”Wolf, where is your pack leader?” Lord Voldemort coldly asked, while his ruby-red eyes burned with inner rage.

”He had gone onto the next step in life,” Ophelia once more said.

Glancing at the dried blood splattered on her clothes, Voldemort leans back in his chair and eyed her with interest. ”Did you slay the pack leader?” Voldemort asked.

”Yes,” Ophelia expressionlessly answered.

”How interesting,” Voldemort purred. ”And how did such a small thing like yourself kill him?”

”By surprise,” Ophelia hissed, before slashing her own throat.

Ophelia saw everything slowdown in slow motion. A small smile appeared on her face as bright flickering lights like flowers bloomed all around her. It was though she was enveloped in a soft cocoon, before her closing her eyes and falling asleep for all eternity.

Letting out a cry of rage, Voldemort hissed, ”Snyde!”

The usual weeping figure of Empusa Snyde rushed forward to attempt to save the mangy wolf. However, after a quick diagnostic with her wand, Empusa carefully said, 'Milord, the silver blade hit an artery. The silver poisoning went straight to her heart, she died in mere seconds.”