Chapter 685 - Ruse Ⅷ (1/2)
On the outskirts of the little-known muggle town by the name of Sharmourn, the old Gibbon manor stands coldly looking down on the village down in the hills below. The dark manor is surrounded by thorny overgrown bushes that are hacked down in fury as Death Eaters begin to apparated onto the stone path. Those severely wounded are carried past the metal gates that are covered by winding vines. Up the winding path, past the old, decaying trees, the Death Eaters hurry inside the dark, and ancient manor.
The countless Gibbon family tombstones that reside behind the ancient manor seem rather heavy and ominous as shadows seem to stir. Countless Episkey's are cast on those less wounded, while the worst of the wounded are tended to by those that possess better healing skills. Among them is the widow, Empusa Snyde as she quickly and efficiently tends to the wounded as best as she can. The ash, covered fire singed Death Eaters mutter their gratitude as their wounds are tended to from the battle.
The Gibbon gates with a loud crash are smashed onto the ground as Lord Voldemort appears on the winding path with his serpent companion. The Death Eaters that are slightly wounded quiver with dread as an icy, murderous visage can clearly be seen on the Dark Lord's face. Those that are still able to kneel among the wounded kneel, while those that cannot bend their heads showing their fidelity.
Crimson eyes glowing with old madness, Voldemort raises his wand to curse his followers, and remembers, he must control his rage. Forcefully taking a deep breath and his wand shaking with bloodthirst, he slowly lowers his wand hand. ”Report on our losses and gains!”
The Death Eaters gaze at each other in surprise, before the rugged domineering featured wizard, Darith Yaxley, the brother of the deceased Corban Yaxley eagerly steps forward. ”By my count, Master, we lost at least eleven of our brethren, and four captured. However, our losses were less severe than the Auror's at least sixteen dead by my count, and more wounded,” he keenly replied having embellished his tale to some degree.
Somewhat appeased by Darith Yaxley's words, Voldemort turns his eyes to his followers. However, before he can speak, the door slams open behind him causing everyone to turn around and see the figure of Antonin Dolohov leisurely striding into the Gibbon manor front hall. ”Pardon me, I did not know I was late,” Dolohov arrogantly sneered as he eyed the wounded with disdain.
”Dark Lord,” Dolohov leisurely greeted, before his roving eyes fell upon his prey. His long, twisted pale face widens with cruelty as he found that which he sought. ”My old friend, would you like to learn of something that will surely be of interest to you?”
”Dolohov speak clearly,” Voldemort growled. ”I am in no mood for your tiresome games.”
”Oh, I speak truthfully, my old friend,” Dolohov said with great glee. ”Did you know that among of our brethren there exists a traitor?” The air suddenly seems to evaporate from the very chamber as a terrible chill descends upon the hall. Those within the hall attempt not to shiver lest they draw unwanted attention to themselves.
”Who?” Voldemort dangerously hissed with narrowed crimson slit eyes.
”Empusa Snyde,” Dolohov slowly said causing those in the hall to let out a gasp. Those that were nearest to the widow wounded or not scramble away in their haste as some trip over their robes. A very large space appears around Empusa Snyde as everyone in the chamber intently turns to gaze at the witch.
Empusa Snyde opens her mouth to defend herself, when Voldemort shouts, ”Crucio!” Screaming in agony, she falls to the floor as her body shakes from the force of the torment. The other fragments contained within her retreat except for one forced to linger behind. The fragment was directly tied to the lifeforce of the vessel and could not depart without sufficient time to unravel itself from the magical core of the witch.
The fragment bitterly lamented to itself as it suffered under the cruel hand of the puppet. It was obvious that Life or Death had intervened enough to damage them. They were now bound by the curse of the puppet. It would seem that the gamble of Life or Death had been successful. The handicap imposed on them would slowly take its toll and perchance even be enough to cause the scales of power to tilt. The puppet would have to die, but not before it had been properly been made use of. There was no other choice as any action taken by their own hand would be cursed. They would restrict their movements, for the time being, it was the most prudent course of action. Before it retreated further into the depth of Empusa Snyde permitting the vessel to experience the full force of the torture while it remained unharmed.