Chapter 209: heating up
*Narrator pov*
In a dimly lit room, a man stood, the only light was coming from the low-burning fire that cast long shadows across the stone walls. He knelt before the fireplace, pulling his hood lower over his face, ensuring that the enchanted silver mask he wears is firmly in place. Even through the veil of the mask, his eyes gleamed with annoyance.
With a practiced hand, he reached for a small pouch hanging from his belt. It's filled with Floo powder, a fine, silvery substance that glints in the firelight. He takes a pinch, careful and deliberate, before tossing it into the flames. The fire roars to life, the flames turning a vibrant green, their intensity momentarily lighting up the room in an eerie glow.
As the flames stabilized, he leaned forward, his masked face hovering just above the emerald fire. The crackling flames warped around him, their greenish hue reflecting off the silver of his mask, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. With a low, commanding voice, he speaks the name of his contact, his words precise and clipped.
The flames shift, swirling in response, and soon the outline of another's face begins to form within the fire. The leader's masked visage remains impassive, "Sorry to contact you out of the blue,"
"Bah it's no matter," the voice obviously belonged to an older man, "Now tell me, what has you contacting me at this hour,"
The team leader of Sages Eye sighed, "The Aurors are putting up more resistance than we thought. We will be working as a team it seems, sharing information and acting together,"
The flaming visage of the man in the floo frowned for a split second before a chuckle riveted throughout the room, "No matter, although it will be annoying it shouldn't hamper what you were sent to do. Help them, my friend. This war will just get worse, your team will help greatly."
The masked leader sighed before taking off his silver mask, a normal-looking Asian man's face appeared though he looked young, "I don't understand, I just graduated, and you recruited me but, then you send me off to England to help with a war?"
"You don't need to understand right now, England needs assistance and we will provide it for some coin of course. It will help spread our name as well. Do not forget, if you are in a dangerous situation forgo the law and attack with deadly force be safe shin." The boss replied
Shin's eyebrows creased, "Of course, I will contact you if anything unexpected happens,"
***
Lord Voldemort sat at the head of a long, polished dining table, the dark wood gleaming under the dim light of a dozen floating candles. The room was large but felt oppressive, with heavy curtains drawn tight against the night outside, sealing in the atmosphere. The air was thick with a palpable tension as if the very walls were holding their breath.
Voldemort's presence dominated the room. His lean figure was draped in dark robes that seemed to drink in the light, making his pale, angular face stand out even more starkly. His red eyes, glowing faintly like embers, flickered with a cruel, calculating light as he surveyed the table. His lips, thin and bloodless, curled into a faint smile that did nothing to warm the icy chill in the room.
The top Death Eaters sat in uneasy silence around the table, each of them acutely aware of their master's mood. The table was set with fine silverware and gleaming goblets, but the meal before them was simple: thick cuts of steak, still slightly bloody, resting on dark plates. The aroma of the meat hung in the air, mingling with the scent of wax and something faintly metallic, like the sharp tang of dark magic.
Lucius Malfoy, further down the table, cut his steak with measured precision, though his hand trembled slightly as he lifted his fork. Others, like Lord Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, maintained a composed demeanor, but their eyes betrayed a wary vigilance.
Voldemort picked up his own fork, though he seemed to do so more out of formality than hunger. He sliced into the steak with a slow, deliberate motion, the silver knife gliding through the meat effortlessly. As he raised a piece to his mouth, his gaze swept across the table, silently taking stock of his followers. Every eye was on him, every breath held in anticipation of his next move, his next word.
The Dark Lord chewed slowly, savoring the moment, both the taste of the meat and the power he held over these devoted, yet fearful, servants. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he swallowed, setting down his fork with a soft clink that seemed to echo unnaturally in the silence. The room seemed to grow colder as he spoke, his voice a soft, hissing whisper that nonetheless carried with it an undeniable authority.
"How fortunate," Voldemort murmured, "that we are all here... to enjoy such... delicacies."
"Yes my lord it's rare we all have the time to meet like this," Lord Lestrange replied with a strained smile as he looked at his meal
It seemed unappetizing at this moment.
"So tell me about this Wizengamot," Voldemort asked lightly while cutting off another piece of steak
Lord Lestrange huffed, "The minister put up two things for a vote. The first, allowing Hit Wizard groups to operate on British soil without the proper paperwork, and the second the use of lethal spells for Aurors. The first passed the second didn't,"
Voldemort hummed, "I see, who led the proposals?"
"The Hit wizard permits wasn't truly a proposal. Rufus brought it up but, that was because a new group came in called the Sage's Eye. Apparently, they are the ones who dealt with Samus's group," Lestrange supplied
Voldemort frowned, "Scrimgeour is going to be a problem, how soon can we coordinate a raid team?"
"As soon as tomorrow but that's not the issue my lord, his manor is covered in wards from the gates to the tree line. There's no way to breach them without incurring losses, and that doesn't even include the other possibilities," Lord Mulciber interjected as he is a ward expert himself
"Hmm," Voldemort frowned taking a sip of wine, "What about through transit,"
Lucius eagerly joined, "He leaves from his office to his manor, and barely ever goes outside but, I think with this new collaboration with hit wizards we will have more chances,"
"See him monitored I want Scrimgeour dealt with as soon as possible," Voldemort sneered at the name, "And what of this second proposal,"
"It was proposed by Lord Everglade, Morpheus Everglade the one that teaches at Hogwarts and a bloody bastard," Lestrange cursed him immediately
Voldemort sneered, "Why hasn't this fool been dealt with,"
Mulciber wore a strained smile, "We can't find his manor, no we can hardly find him at all. It seems he pops in and out of existence. And every time we do run into him our men end up dying,"
"Morpheus Everglade," Voldemort whispered the name while closing his eyes, "That man has been a thorn in my side for a while, will he continue his career at Hogwarts?"
"As far as we know," Lord Lestrange replied
"Good, get one of our followers to kill him,"
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