Chapter 672 - The Master’s Return Ⅶ (1/2)
There is an abrupt shocked silence that followed Dolohov's departure as none including Voldemort could believe that Dolohov had departed without leave. Displeasure flashes through Voldemort's crimson eyes, but he binds his temper to the shock of those that know him. Waving his spider-like fingers in dismissal, Voldemort gestures to the serpent which all had temporarily forgotten with his arrival and announcement except for one, Rodolphus Lestrange, who had kept his eyes firmly fixed to the ground lest the serpent approach him from behind.
”Nagini,” Voldemort murmured, ”a loyal companion of note, who I gained during the course of my journey. She will reside here with me, and none need ever fear her except for those that would seek to harm our interests. I trust that there are none present with such ill intentions.”
There is an uneasy stiffness to the crowd as those, who had thought to flee to the old Prince's side and betray the Dark Lord were no longer certain of their decision. Those with such thoughts frantically hide them away in the depths of their mind lest their Master sense them. None dared to move must less breathe lest they attract the Dark Lord's attention and proved their innermost thoughts of treachery as he rips into their minds open.
The Dark Lord was a powerful Legilimen's that did need the use of a wand nor verbal magic to tear into one's mind. He often tore into the Death Eater's minds for sheer pleasure. He was even known to enter the victims and create visions that would drive the victims insane. The Dark Lord was anything but merciful. He was their Master.
Nagini lazily curls wrapped her head around Voldemort's feet. She lays watchful and intent observing the wizards and witches before her. Her friend had told her to watch those that followed him and watched she would. Her tongue flickers in the air as she tastes the scent of fear, terror, shame, and guilt. But then there was a particular scent that caught at the tip of her forked tongue. The scent tasted of ice, and snow, but burned like a blazing forest fire. It was a scent she had not never smelled before and had no name for.
Nagini turned her head toward the source of the scent to find a tall, thin, dark-haired wizard. His cheekbones were sharp with a cold face. But what captured her gaze was not the wizard himself, but his gaze that directly stared into hers without blinking. His dark eyes were frigid and filled with a deadly air that burned hot and cold. And for the first time in a long time, she found herself curling back to stave off an attack from another and more dangerous predator than herself.
Taking notice of Nagini's coiled stance from a corner of his Voldemort decides to move things along. ”Rise, my brethren, and let us feast on this night. For tomorrow, we begin by taking that which the Ministry of Magic finds of precious worth.”
A cheer is followed by Voldemort's announcement as the Death Eaters rise to their feet with joy and relief at the lapse of torture. ”Gibbons,” Voldemort ordered. ”Have the house elves prepare a feast, and a live bird, Nagini enjoys the thrill of the hunt.”
”Yes, Dark Lord,” Gibbons mumbled with resignation. Despite this being his ancestral home, he had now become the Steward of his own house. It was a most tedious position, and one he would have never thought to have before.
Turning away Gibbons moves to depart with the crowd, when Voldemort adds, ”And have the house elves clean up the hall. It is a most unsightly display.”
”As you wish, Master,” Gibbons sardonically answered with only a few in the crowd taking note of his tone, before he moved to the hallway to summon his house elves as instructed and out of the sight of the enormous serpent that could cost him a good slave.
”Lestrange,” Voldemort demanded. ”Remain behind, I wish to speak with thee.”
”Yes, Dark Lord,” Rodolphus obediently answered as he remained in place with his gaze to the ground and towards the serpent.