The Master of Death

Chapter41: Rotten boi

Lord Voldemort inhaled impatiently, his hands resting upon the velvety armrests of his seat. Momentarily he asked himself when Nagini would return, but most likely she was still content with decimating Lucius' priced flock of albino Peacocks.
Idly he let his gaze wander over his Death Eaters, while his fingers tapped against the fabric in an almost forgotten rhythm of a piano piece.
After years of practising legilimency, it had almost become a second nature to pick up on the emotions floating on the surface of his follower's minds. It was nothing to distinguish the truth from a lie.

Amycus and Alecto didn't seem too fazed by Lucius announcing that an unwelcome guest had entered through the wards. And now, that the sounds of the argument downstairs had quieted down, Alecto's attention was once again shifting towards the glass of wine that stood in front of Narcissa Malfoy.
The Lady of the house had made a point in not offering any of the Death Eaters more than a seat. But the amount of entertainment gained from observing this petty quarrel could only last so long.

Lord Voldemort let his gaze stray further, over the pompous interior of the room to a side table, eyes briefly lingering on the golden statue of a greyhound before they came to a stop on the man residing on the sofa next to it.

Avery, still clad in his Death Eater robes, had not stopped fidgeting with his wand, but at least he no longer reeked of fear. Instead, there was an air of anticipation surrounding him. Though Lord Voldemort would not dare to hope that the reason for the man's alertness was a natural caution concerning the unexpected intruder. The emotion surrounding the man was nothing more but a mere hope to fight, single-minded bloodthirstiness without an ulterior motive.
At that moment, Avery looked up and the dark Lord stared into his eyes.

Ah. Blowing a few cell doors off their hinges hadn't been enough, apparently.

"I was not aware, Avery," the dark Lord began and the other people in the formerly quiet room startled, "that you expected the breakout from Azkaban to encompass more of an ...effort from your side."

"My Lord, I would never-" the man uttered hastily but Lord Voldemort continued to talk, easily cutting him off.

"Had I known before, I'd have had of course considered your wishes and sent you to negotiate with the guards of Azkaban. Though I am certain that there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to rectify this experience in the near future."

Avery paled significantly at this statement and for good reason. Communicating with Dementors could by no means be described as pleasant. And as Avery showed neither talent in producing a Patronus nor in shielding his mind, Lord Voldemort doubted that the man would succeed if he were to be given that task.

But the dark Lord's train of thought was interrupted by the sudden sound of the door swinging open, followed by the entry of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. The expression of relief was evident on Avery's face but Lord Voldemort no longer paid attention to him.

Lucius seemed agitated. Curiously the dark Lord took in his appearance. It was a rare occurrence for the man to give that impression, however well composed he may seem to the untrained eye.

Severus' face on the other hand betrayed no such emotion.

The man smoothly moved out of the doorway, stepping out of the open space so that his back was covered by the wall. Always distrustful, always attentive. It was something Lord Voldemort appreciated in the man, though he doubted that Snape was even aware that he was doing it. But the brief observation was all but forgotten when Lucius announced the unexpected intruder.

"It is Greyback."

Lord Voldemort's fingers stilled on the fabric. Malfoy, oblivious to the reaction his statement had caused continued. "He demands an audience."