The pack swiftly vanished into the shadows of the forest and was simply gone. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, Ophelia tiredly sits down on the forest ground right next to the oh-so-very still body of her lover. She patiently waits to be summoned.
Feeling the end drawing closer, Ophelia cleans her blade on tree leaves, before slipping the silver blade into her clothes. Safely hidden away is the silver blade in her clothes. She curled up next to the cold, hardened corpse in vain seeking warmth. There she lay as the day vanished and the moon began to rise in the starry sky. She knew she had bought them enough time to escape and not be caught.
None of the pack including Timothy could ever hope to understand as to why Ophelia had killed her lover, Weiss. None of them had ever killed an innocent, but she had. She had killed to protect her pack, killed to survive, and killed under the orders from Greyback, and the evil wizard that they still had continued to serve under.
Unlike Timothy and the rest of the pack, she knew with absolute certainty in her heart that she was just as abhorrent as the dark wizards that lived inside the manor that ranked of evil. However, Timothy and the rest of the pack were still innocent enough and could still be saved. The same could not have been said for herself and her beloved, Weiss. They were tainted, rabid wolves that needed to be put down.
Ophelia is jostled out of her inner thoughts by loud elephant-like footsteps that can easily be heard throughout the woods. It is time. She opens her eyes and leans over briefly to lay a kiss on the cold forehead of Weiss. "Wait for me," she whispered, before rising to her feet and brushing off the dirt off her clothes.
Two panting figures steadily walk through the forest loudly cursing as they stumble in the dark. A stocky witch with stubby fingers, Alecto Carrow wheezing cried out, "Wolf!" Her shout echoes eerily in the quiet woods causing the brother and sister to grip their wands even tighter.
The dough-like brother, Amycus Carrow tries to hide his anxiety and snarled viciously, "Mutts, come out this instant! The master requests your presence!"
Striding silently through the woods like a ghost, Ophelia appeared from out of nowhere. She startled the pair of brother and sister causing them to stumble in panic and nearly fall on their backside. "Yes, you called?" Ophelia distantly answered in reply.
Alecto wrinkled her nose at the unclean scent of the female werewolf. "Foul mutt, you need a bath!"
"Foul mutt," Amycus giggled at his sister's joke.
"I can bathe if you will so very kindly allow me the use of your bathing facilities," Ophelia calmly responded showing no trace of emotion.
"I'll not have any of your foulness polluting my home," Alecto said aghast in disgust. "Where is your wretched leader?"
"He has already started the next phase of his journey," Ophelia impassively answered.
"You have blood on your clothes," Amycus wisely pointed out.
"As I said before he is on the next step of his journey," Ophelia dully repeated.
"Savages," Alecto swore with utter glee. "Your master bids you to come."
Ophelia does not reply and merely follows after the Carrow duo. The manor is quiet as they enter and traverse through the halls into a stone hall, where the evil skeleton-like wizard resides. All around the room kneeling like fawning courtiers are the dark-robed wizards that serve the Dark Lord.
Ophelia's nose waters at the strong overpowering stench of dark magic. Several figures lay twitching on the ground having been cursed with the Cruciatus curse. Ophelia carefully keeps her gaze on the chin of the crimson-eyed evil wizard. He could read their thoughts through their eyes; she could smell the twisted scent of magic on him whenever he did so.
"Wolf, where is your pack leader?" Lord Voldemort coldly asked, while his ruby red eyes burned with inner rage.
"He had gone onto the next step in life," Ophelia dully repeated.
Glancing at the dried blood splattered on her clothes, Voldemort leans back in his chair and eyes her with interest. "Did you slay the pack leader?" Voldemort asked.
"Yes," Ophelia expressionlessly answered.
"How interesting," Voldemort purred. "And how did such a small thing like yourself kill him?"
"By surprise," Ophelia hissed, before slashing her own throat.
Ophelia saw everything slow down for a second. A small smile appeared on her face as bright flickering lights like flowers bloomed all around her. It was as though she was enveloped in a soft cocoon, before her closing her eyes and falling asleep for all eternity.
Letting out a cry of rage, Voldemort hissed, "Snyde!"
The usual weeping figure of Empusa Snyde rushed forward to attempt to save the mangy wolf. However, after a quick diagnostic with her wand, Empusa carefully said, 'Milord, the silver blade hit an artery. The silver poisoning went straight to her heart, she died in mere seconds."
Furious, Voldemort pointed his wand at Empusa and said, "Crucio!"
Empusa screamed and fell to the floor convulsing until the curse finally let up leaving her still twitching from the aftershocks.
Voldemort's crimson eyes malevolently glow as he says, "Find the wolves and bring them to me!"
"Milord, if I may speak?" Asked, the youthful, handsome figure of S.R. Wilkes.
Feeling a trifle calmer, Voldemort coldly replied, "You may."
"Thank you for your graciousness, Milord," S.R. Wilkes smoothly said. "It is my opinion that the werewolves are not only long gone but have fled to London to receive the cure. It will be near impossible to retrieve them with the Aurors on full alert searching for us. It may even be a planned ambush to catch us unawares."
Somewhat mollified by the response of his new favorite, Voldemort says, "Yes, you are right. However, I still wish them dead."
"And they shall be, Dark Lord," S.R. Wilkes persuasively said. "However, do not allow their pathetic actions to ruin your glory, Milord. They were merely disposable pawns and of no value."
Voldemort is pensively silent for a moment, before saying, "Lestrange."
"Yes, Dark Lord?" said the kneeling, gaunt, cold dark-haired figure of Rodolphus Lestrange.
"I have a task for you," Voldemort ordered. "Find someone for me, I wish to send a message."
"Which is?" Lestrange asked for more information.
Voldemort motioned for Lestrange to approach. Rodolphus Lestrange expressionlessly did as he was told. With care, he brought his head near to the Dark Lord, who bent down to whisper something into his ear.
Rodolphus Lestrange bowed and said, "It will be as you wish, Dark Lord."
Voldemort flickered his hand dismissively at him. "Take Dolohov with you, Lestrange. He has not been of any use as of late. Perhaps, he will be of some use to you."
The cold, cruel-faced Antonin Dolohov's lips barely refrain from sneering. The broad-shouldered wizard rose to his feet just as Rodolphus Lestrange said, "Come." The two wizards quickly make their way out of the front hall.
The broad-shouldered, dark-haired wizard smirks quite happily. "Finally," Dolohov cried out in relief.
"I have been so very bored as of late," Dolohov said. "That I actually thought that I might even be desperate enough to actually fool around with a fellow Death Eater out of boredom."
Rodolphus frowned in disgust. "There are whore houses to scratch that kind of itch."
"Lestrange, do not play innocent with me," Dolohov flashed a terrible, twisted smile. "We both know that I am not referring to my prick, but rather I have not tortured nor killed anything in months."
Rodolphus did not allow for any emotion to appear on his face at the comment. "You will behave yourself, Dolohov," Rodolphus icily said. "Or I will end you."
"Oh?" Dolohov grinned hungrily. "Do you believe that you can kill me, Lestrange?"
However, before Dolohov could react, he suddenly found a blade at his stomach and a wand at his neck. "I cheat," Rodolphus dangerously stated, before removing either weapon. "Do not mistake, my forbearance as anything else."
Dolohov unconsciously touches his neck. "Well, color me impressed, Lestrange," Dolohov said. "I did not believe that you were capable of such treachery."
Not wanting to continue their conversation, Rodolphus curtly says, "I grow weary of this tiresome conversation, come, Dolohov."
Dolohov out of respect or out of boredom remained silent. The two Death Eaters swiftly vanish into the woods on their hunt to fulfill their Dark Lord's request. For the Dark Lord's request would be fulfilled, one way or another.