Chapter 890 - Still Ⅱ (1/2)

The doors to the inner hall smoothly open to reveal the tall, thin skeleton-like figure in dark sweeping robes. The face of Lord Voldemort is deathly pale, sunken crimson snake eyes, and two slits for nostrils much like that of a serpent. In his long, spider-like fingers he holds a neatly folded copy of that evening's Daily Prophet. His sharp, blue-tinged fingernails dig lightly into the paper causing the paper to slightly tear. A spark of rage gleams in the depth of his crimson eyes, before being completely extinguished.

Lord Voldemort emotionlessly tosses the newspaper to the ground. The copy of the Daily Prophet bursts into flames mid-flight turning into a rubbish heap of ash, before falling into a smoldering heap onto the ground. Naturally, none of the Death Eater's believed the Daily Prophet's lies and even if they did, they could not afford to permit the Dark Lord to know such perilous thoughts were strangled while still in their cradle.

Gibbons privately winces at the Dark Lord's actions but does not comment on the action. It would not pay well to verbally criticize their Master rather it would only lead to his untimely death. And he had no intentions of dying anytime in the near future.

An icy, detached smile appears on Voldemort's face causing the hairs of the Death Eaters to stand on end. ”Most excellent, Nagini was exceedingly hungry,” he idly praised causing many of the Death Eaters to shiver despite their robes and cloaks.

Gesturing at the corpse of Walden Macnair, Voldemort asks, ”And who is responsible for Nagini's meal?” None of the Death Eater's seem capable of responding as they watch Nagini curl tighter around the corpse and the transfixed house elf. The serpent begins to predatorily squeeze its prey causing the house elf to hyperventilate in dreadful terror.

”My dear old friend,” Dolohov replied lazily, ”I found Macnair's excuses for his failure intolerable. What use was Albert Runcorn if he could not even swing a single vote at the Ministry of Magic? It should have been child's play and yet the Ministry of Magic has allied itself with beasts to corral and hunt the giants.”

Dolohov snorted dismissively and took a sip of his drink, before raising the glass towards Voldemort. ”Though I must say, friend, I must toast your mastermind plot to thin the giant's ranks while at the same time decimating the Ministry's forces. It was truly a brilliant ploy,” he murmured sipping the rest of the firewhiskey.

”I am greatly heartened that you noticed, Dolohov,” Voldemort remarked causing the Death Eater's eyes to fill with awe, hope, and a bit of fear at their master's might. Although, a few suspected that Devante Nott's death had not just been a mere coincidence since Nott's death was the only fatality among the ranks of the Death Eaters.

In the background, a final pitiful pleading gasp escapes from the breathless house elf's throat, before a loud violent, sickly crack is heard. The house elf's eyes become blank as the last breath from its body escapes. Yet the serpent continues to coil tighter and tighter crushing ribcages and bones. Some of the Death Eaters begin to look rather ill and hastily look away, while the rest feel a dreadful shiver creep down their backs. Still, it is impossible to ignore the cracking sounds forcing many to grind their teeth to ignore the ear-screeching sounds.

Gibbons frowns at the sight of his dead house elf. Prices for house elves had increased since Hogwarts trained house elves became all the rage in pureblood circles. Personally, he preferred traditional house elves, who knew their place. The Hogwarts trained house elves did not seem to know their place acting as if they were of worth. What an utterly preposterous idea to believe that such insignificant creatures would be of any real value!

”Helot!” Gibbons patiently summoned one of the house elves, (Helot meaning slave).

With a loud pop, Helot timidly appears and bȧrėly refrains from pulling on his long, droopy bat-like ears in fear. A stifled sob dies in his throat at seeing the tragic inhumane death of his kin. ”Yes, Master!” The house elf squeaked in heartache.

”Clean the carpet up once master's familiar is sated,” Gibbons pointedly ordered not wanting to another house elf.

”Yes, Master!” Helot hoarsely replied before vanishing to grieve the loss of their kin with the remaining manor house elves.