Voldemort was furious. He was angry. He was seething in rage. It had been years since he had felt such anger.
Years earlier, he had learned to keep his emotions under control. Even when he punished his subordinates, he never did so in rage. He did it in a very controlled and calculated manner. He never let his emotions take control of him.
He knew that his subordinates must think of him as a slightly mad man. Probably, a psychopath.
Even the most generous and optimistic assessment would call him extremely impulsive, prone to losing his calm and growing furious at the slightest issue. And he maintained this portrayal. For it made him unpredictable. This behaviour of his made cruelty at his hands far more acceptable. And far more dangerous. And made his subordinates far more subservient. No one wanted to take even the slightest liberty with a man who could kill them on the smallest of the mistake.
But deep down, he was cunning. Extremely cunning. Even a fool should know that no impulsive man could accomplish what he had. But his subordinates were worse than fools.
He had fooled a large group of superior pure bloods into worshiping him. For them, he was nothing less than a god, if gods existed for wizards. He had lied to them about his identity.
He had declared himself the heir of Slytherin. He was a half blood, yet everyone believed him to be a man of the most superior lineage. No one had brains to question his claims. No one questioned that if he was heir of Slytherin, why did he not claim the Slytherin lordship and claim all its vault. No one questioned about his past life.
And all of this could not have been achieved by impulse. A great deal of planning and cunning had been required to achieve it.
But today, he was in real rage.
It all began last night when Reinhart and his companions departed to kill Edmund Bones. Despite keeping his emotions under control, Voldemort was filled with anticipation for what was about to come.
This move of his was his boldest yet. A lord of the stature of Edmund Bones was about to be killed. It was going to be Voldemort's first high profile killing. This was going to be the greatest leap he had taken toward his goal.
The death of Edmund Bones, in his own Bones Manor, would have produced a terror never seen before. The whole of Wizarding Britain would have felt that wave of dread.
If someone like Edmund Bones was not safe in his own manor, then who would be safe? Which lord would have dared to oppose him then?
The fear, the horror, it would have left on the minds of everyone would have been unimaginable. It would have made defeating him in the minds of a common wizard and witch impossible.
He remained seated in anticipation. He had expected Reinhart and his party to return within half an hour, that was enough time to kill Edmund Bones and his daughter. But Reinhart did not return.
Time continued to tick by. From an hour to a couple of hours, Reinhart still did not return. And Voldemort realized that something had gone wrong.
He had wanted to send a backup party, but he could not take the risk. He did not know, had no idea, what was happening at Bones Manor.
It was then that one of his subordinates arrived, carrying news. News that Edmund Bones had summoned Aurors to his manor and wanted to report something.
Voldemort had almost killed that wizard for bringing him only half the news. But even so, he did not allow anyone to leave his base to find out what was happening. He could not afford to take the risk. He feared that someone might expose his base.
And then came the morning newspaper. The more Voldemort read, and saw the pictures of Reinhart, the more furious he became.
(Lucius Malfoy POV)
I, along with more than two dozen Death Eaters, had been at the Dark Lord's base since last night. My legs were already aching from standing for all night and I was certain that almost everybody would be feeling like me only. But no one dared to move or to say a word.
It was meant to be a gathering for celebration. Celebration for the killing of Lord Bones, a pure blood. For me, this was already absurd. Kill pure bloods and claim that pure bloods are being benefited.
But everything had been thrown into chaos. Lord Lestrange and his party never returned. Despite another of our comrades bringing some news from the Ministry, the Dark Lord was not willing to let any of us go find out what was happening.
He was afraid. No, not that something would happen to us. We could have gone to the Ministry in our normal identities and nothing would have happened.
He was afraid that if someone was allowed to go, he or she might expose him. The Dark Lord feared that out of desperation or fear, one of us might turn him in to the Ministry. I believe that no one apart from me viewed from this angle.
And then came the morning newspaper. The Dark Lord was furious. I had seen him angry before, but this time it felt different. It was not the usual anger he displayed.
Lord Lestrange had been killed. And to be honest, seeing those pictures, the severed head and the two bodies whose heads had been blasted apart, and the bodies which had been impaled, a cold shiver ran down my spine too.
Slithering on the floor in front of the Dark Lord were a couple of our comrades. Fools or perhaps the bravest of us all. They had dared to suggest to the Dark Lord what step he should take next.
Neither the Dark Lord nor the rest of us had even heard the full suggestion before they were rewarded with a wave of the Cruciatus Curse for their so called bravery.
Every time something like this happened, my mind automatically reeled back to what Antonio Olario had said that day. And it was proving to be true.
"Pure bloods will never be fighting muggle born. They will be fight each other. They may set and declared whatever agenda they want, but it would be just a disguise to grab more power. Fight against muggle, fight for muggle, everything be will be a mere show put off to take more power. Muggle born will only be collateral damage in the war of pure bloods that would be fight in their name."
This was what he had said and every bit of it was turning out to be true. 8 pure bloods had been killed when they had gone to kill another pure blood. My mind could not forget these words. And each incident was making it look truer. It was Olario's words which had made me to think about everything from a different perspective.
"Leave," the dark lord's loud voice snapped me out of my daze. "I will recall you all in few days and we will discuss what we should do next."
I sighed a relief at being allowed to walk away from here. Next time, like every other time, it would not be a discussion. The dark lord would order and we would follow.
And probably, the next time, we would not be meeting in this base. I had seen and felt in his eyes. The dark lord was getting afraid. And he would want more security for himself.
"Lucius," my father's voice broke beside me. Concern and fear were evident in his eyes.
I gave a nod of acknowledgement as we both walked side by side towards the exit.
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