Snape's appearance drew everyone's eyes.
Even Harry Potter, standing nearby, could not steal that attention from him.
Anyone who did not know the situation might have thought that the true Chosen One was actually Snape.
Interestingly enough, the figures who stepped out of the Hogwarts gates after him were none other than our know-it-all Hermione Granger, as well as Fleur Delacour, who was flying toward Draco on a Broomstick.
Since Snape had appeared with them, the identity of the helper Draco had mentioned earlier now had a definite answer.
However, compared with Snape, the appearance of Hermione and the others did not attract much attention.
That gave Hermione and the others a chance to move closer to Draco.
And even though Hermione and the others clearly bore signs of having just fought a battle, no one thought of them as people who could be of much help.
Let alone imagined that they had dealt with multiple Death Eaters and achieved such a major victory.
After all, in most people's eyes, there was only one Draco in the wizarding world.
...
In short, even if a few people were curious about Hermione and the others' appearance, their attention was soon drawn away by what happened next.
Cold.
Sticky.
That hoarse voice, like the hiss of a venomous snake, passed through the air and reached everyone's ears.
"I have a problem, Severus."
"..."
Snape remained silent, though his eyes flickered.
Whether Voldemort truly did not care about Snape's lack of response, or had expected it all along, he merely raised the wand in his hand.
His motion was like that of someone holding a conductor's baton, delicate and elegant between his fingers.
"Why does it not work for me, Severus?"
"..."
The second question seemed to carry a little less patience, and a little more killing intent.
In the silence, no one understood what Voldemort was questioning him about.
The only thing they could tell was that Snape seemed to have done something, and that whatever it was mattered greatly to Voldemort.
Everyone's eyes, including those of the Death Eaters standing behind Voldemort, moved back and forth between the two of them.
The difference was that in the eyes of Barty Crouch Jr. and the other Death Eaters, there was far more malice than confusion.
And just as everyone thought Snape would continue to remain silent, he first glanced at Harry Potter and Draco, then slowly took a step forward.
"I thought you understood."
"Yes, I have sensed it."
"..."
"I am powerful, but this wand... no, it has not shown the miracle it should have shown. Compared with the wand I bought from Ollivander years ago, I feel no difference."
Voldemort's tone was calm and thoughtful.
But with careful attention, one could sense that Voldemort's anger was steadily rising.
Especially from Harry Potter's reaction at that moment.
He seemed to be screaming again because of the scar on his forehead.
"No difference."
Voldemort emphasized it once more.
And because Voldemort repeated it, the wizards present finally understood.
Compared with the battlefield before him, and even Harry Potter, who had once defeated him, Voldemort clearly cared far more about the wand in his hand.
Its importance had surpassed those things everyone had originally assumed the Dark Lord would care about.
A wand?
Could there be something strange about that wand?
That was something no one had expected.