Chapter 806 - An Unusual Circumstance Ⅵ (2/2)
”And?” Voldemort impatiently interjected as his crimson eyes turned away from the peaceful snowy scenery before him.
”The cup was not there, Dark Lord,” Rodolphus confessed honestly. ”I found traces of it having been housed there before, but nothing more. If the cup must have been taken and removed prior to Bellatrix's death as Bellatrix was the last visitor to enter her dowry vaults.”
Voldemort does not give Rodolphus Lestrange. any warning without warning or any verbal casting, he wordlessly and windlessly cast Legilimency upon Lestrange. Legilimency was one of Voldemort's many gifts in magic, but he truly was a talented Legilimens. There were few in existence that were his peer as a Legilimens except for one, Albus Dumbledore.
Rodolphus stumbled to his knees from the violent force as Voldemort carelessly tore through his mind impatiently searching for the memory. Voldemort eagerly found the memory and relived it, before brusquely emerging from Lestrange's mind. Rodolphus lets out a pained pant but manages to struggle to his feet despite his mind feeling as if it had been brutally torn open and violated (which it had). He shoves aside the feelings of anger and relief and instead concentrates on the sole feeling of agony racing through his head. For if the Dark Lord decided to attempt again, he could not allow for the Dark Lord to feel any of his true emotions.
A surge of fury whirls inside him threatening to fill his mind with a mindless fog of rage. Voldemort's snake-like nostrils flare in fury as his pointed blue talon-like nails dig into the flesh nearly drawing blood. Feeling his nails nearly drawing blood, Voldemort forces his long, pale spider-like fingers open like a spider hungrily unfurling its fangs before prey.
”There was no other visitor, Lestrange?” Voldemort snapped as he glared at Lestrange with bȧrėly contained anger.
”There was none, Milord,” Rodolphus replied, before feeling something wet dripping down his nose. Perplexed, he presses the back of his fingers to his nose and looks down only to find dark ruby droplets on the back of his hand. Frowning, he wipes the blood with the robe of his sleeve. It would seem the Dark Lord had been as violent as usual.
Voldemort falls into solemn contemplation, while Rodolphus retrieves his wand from the folds of his robes. ”Episkey,” he murmured out loud having cast a small healing spell on his person to stop the nosebleed. He would not permit for even a single drop of blood to fall into his enemy's hands. There was no telling what evil could be wrought against him.
Voldemort does not comment on Lestrange's actions to heal himself nor much less apologize for his violent course of actions. ”And what of the prophecy?” Voldemort asked without pause nor guilt.
”The spy continues to work diligently on acquiring information,” Rodolphus reported keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ground to control the glimpses of anger clearly visible in his gaze. He buried his anger and focused instead on the still painful pulsing sensation of his mind. It felt as though his mind was bleeding and torn after a savage animal attack.
”I demand progress, Lestrange,” Voldemort coldly warned with a tad of impatience flashing through his crimson serpent eyes.
”The prophecy shall be acquired, Dark Lord,” Rodolphus carefully replied without promising a time frame nor anything else.
Annoyed Voldemort at the neutral roughly dismisses Rodolphus with a gesture of his hand and returns to gazing out of the window with a pensive, cold expression. Rodolphus bȧrėly tilts his head at Voldemort, before turning away on his heels. Without further ado, he escapes from the inner great hall and makes his way to personal quarters to take a pain-relief potion for his fierce headache. He could not afford to being taken advantage while in a weakened state, he had too much at stake.