Chapter 872 - The Foretelling Ⅱ

A subtle change occurred over Devante Nott that would have been unnoticeable if not for Nagini's intent observation skills. The large green diamond-patterned serpent hissed loudly, her head rising to meet in challenge due to the sudden change in the scent of the dark wizard. The foul scent that surrounded the dark wizard grew in strength like that of a putrid corpse. It stunk of insatiable malicious and greed.

"Kin, the dark wizard's foul scent has grown stronger. It is most vile and reeks of danger. Shall I hunt him for you, kin?" Nagini urgently hissed coiled tightly ready to attack at the slightest hint of provocation.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed with a maddened crimson light for a moment, before growing still and calm. In his childhood, Voldemort had learned to be quiet and cunning to survive the cruelty of the orphanage. And at Hogwarts, he had learned to hide his true emotions and appear as something else even fooling the greatest wizard of all time, his transfiguration professor, Albus Dumbledore.

"Calm yourself, Nagini" Voldemort calmly hissed in a parseltongue causing Nagini to reluctantly uncoil, but all the while maintaining her kin's enemy within her serpent gaze.

Turning to the treacherous conspirator in a bored tone of voice, Voldemort addressed Nott as though he still remained unaware and had not noticed anything. "Despite your impudence, Nott, your ȧssumptions are correct," he narrowed his crimson eyes at Nott as if he is irked at having his innermost thoughts being guessed so accurately.

A gleam of arrogance flashes Nott's eyes that Voldemort's crimson eyes did not fail to miss. His crimson eyes narrow dangerously to slits before he continues, "Despite the lack of reinforcements nor fully staffed at full capacity, the Auror's have been authorized by the Minister of Magic the use of dark arts including fatal force. The dog lease that had previously restrained the Auror's is no longer present and now their true nature has truly begun to show."

Voldemort paused for a moment as if considering the tidbit of information. "Nor can the Auror's simply be discarded with such similar ease for they are led by Alastor Moody and Rufus Scrimgeour. The might and prowess of the pureblood Moody lineage is well known and most firmly established considering their families' impressive legacy of producing matchless Auror's. And Rufus Scrimgeour unlike Moody is far more devious like that of his ancestors, the Scrimgeour's come from a lone line of cunning politicians. Scrimgeour is young and certainly a bit reckless, but his temper has tempered down after being ȧssigned as a partner to Moody. On the other hand, Moody has become far more devious since being paired with the younger wizard. It is unfortunate, but their partnership seems to have only further increased their strengths and shaved away at their weaknesses."

Voldemort's lips twitch in a thinly veiled smirk. "I expect that the ranks of the giants will be decimated and Wurfbog will be killed or viciously injured. The injuries incurred and losses to their ranks will destabilize the Gurg's power, and Wurfbog will have no choice but to humble himself if he dėsɨrės to maintain his seat as Gurg of the giants.

Nott curled his lips in a sneer. "Master, Wurfbog is far too arrogant for his own good. He believes himself above his station when he is a mere half-breed."

Rodolphus glances down to hide the cold glint of mockery in the depths of his eyes at Nott's callous remark. If anyone was a half-breed it was the Dark Lord. The product of a muggle and a pureblood witch from the maddened, ɨnċėstuous Gaunt line. It came as no surprise to him that from birth there was something twisted and broken about Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Voldemort's red serpent eyes grow more apathetic at the Death Eater's words. "Nott do lead the way, old friend," he coldly commanded while ċȧrėssing his wand pensively. "Even now, I cannot thank you enough for the recommendation to Borgin and Burkes. I would not be the man I am today without your sound advice."

Devante is startled at the abrupt change in the subject but quickly bows forward. "It was an honor to do so, Master," he fervently answered hiding the annoyance at having to flatter the puppet. It was a tedious task that needed to be completed for the collective.

"Please, master this way," Devante dutifully gestured, before leading the way. Still, he could not help but feel disturbed at being thanked by the puppet. It was simply unnatural and out of character of the puppet.

Unknowingly, Devante's shoulders tense as he leads the way back to the entrance of the prophecy hall. The puppet is not to be trusted especially if the puppet had his wand pointed at the vessel's back. It would not be out of character for the puppet to cast a curse at the vessel's unguarded back. The puppet is a cold-hearted murder after all.

Still blankly waiting at the entrance of the Prophecy Hall is the figure of Broderick Bode. Bode, who is intently frowning as if still struggling to throw off the Imperius Curse with all his might. Waving his wand, Rodolphus cast's the Imperius curse again to maintain the unspeakable under control. "Bode, lead us safely out of the Department of Mysteries and back to the main lobby," he ordered.

The unspeakables body forcefully becomes rigid, before mechanically moving like a wooden puppet. They quickly follow and safely make their way back, the way they came. Pressed for time, they all too soon arrived at the first chamber near the exit. It is a long, rectangular room with an eerie glowing green tank filled with brains that swim through the green potion solution like alien creatures from the great beyond.

Boderick Bode had begun to pass one of the tanks when one of the brains surges forward and leaps out of the green solution with tendrils hungrily stretched out. The brain waves its tentacles in confusion as it easily leaps over Bode's head only to find its body lighter and forcefully being moved towards another. The brain eagerly leaps forward and wraps its stick suffocating limbs around its next prey.

"Galloping Gargoyles!" Devante swore as he attempted to dodge the brain as it eagerly wrapped its slimy tentacles about his arm. The brain eagerly sways forward to choke the breath of life out of its prey before consuming it much like a piranha would.

Knowing that neither Lestrange nor the puppet would lift a single finger to aid him, Devante desperately reaches for his wand only to find himself tripping forward. In horror, they find themselves near the edge of the tank and turn back to see what they had tripped so carelessly on. The cursed serpent raises its head and flicked its tongue smugly at them.

Devante opens his mouth to cast a killing curse only to find another brain hungrily leaping out of the tank like a murderous piranha. It eagerly wrapped its slimy, wet tentacles around his back and hungrily climbed up his back. Another brain leaps forward when he sees the puppet approach them. A sickly tremor runs through the collective, before hastily withdrawing leaving only the soul shard behind.. The soul shard does nothing but withdraws further into the magical core of the vessel lest it is noticed.