Elsewhere, in the snow-covered muggle town of Sharamourn, there is an old manor that overlooks the sleepy snow-covered village below. Up the winding snow-covered path and past the thorny dried overgrown bushes and the closed cold metal gates. Just beyond the gates, there stand dead ancient trees guarding the entrance to the family graveyard that lays behind the ancient manor (and houses more recent victims such as the rotting corpse of Primus Wilkes and the traitor Empusa Snyde without her head).
Because of the bitter cold, there are no guards at the entrance of Gibbons Manor. Inside the great hall, it was cold and empty with the Death Eaters present having long retired for the evening. The only exception is a dark-haired wizard with board shoulders carefully sharpening a silver blade. Antonin Dolohov's pale, arrogant face is twisted in a usual malicious smirk.
Dolohov satisfied with his work raised the sharpened silver blade to the light cast by the bronze candelabra hanging on the walls. Dolohov toys with the blade for a moment, before abruptly hurling it over his shoulder into the darkness. A loud angry hiss is heard followed by rapid slithering movement.
Dolohov rises holding his wand stead as an enormous serpent. An enormous serpent as thick as man's thigh and over twelve feet long emerges from the gloom and shadows. The green serpent has a flat viper's head and diamond patterns across its skin. Nagini, the Dark Lord's most trusted companion, and pet, but even more so as the poisonous and deadly serpent also acted as the Dark Lord's ears and eyes.
The serpent hissed irritably at Dolohov snapping its jaws in emphasis at him. Its yellow serpent eyes maliciously gazed at him ever hungry. Dolohov did not show any trace of fear despite the prickle of unease. After all, there was a rather bulge in the serpent's belly. It was likely another house elf.
"Begone serpent, return to your master, he is waiting," Dolohov proudly ordered staring at the serpent with disdain.
The serpent, Nagini hissed again in anger revealing large, poisonous fangs, before hurtling towards the inner Great Hall. The doors to the inner hall had been enchanted to unlock and open large enough to permit the serpent to come and go as it pleased. The serpent traversed the cool marble floor, before slowing down to a glide before the marble throne that had been erected in the inner Great Hall.
The ivory throne lay empty as Voldemort stood before the frost-covered window gazing upon the snow-covered muggle village that resided down below. The frosted windows reflected enough including his own terrible visage. His face is deathly pale skeletal-like with sunken crimson serpent eyes, and two slits for a nose. His fingers are long and unnatural spider-like with blue-tinged sharpened nails.
"Did you eat one of house elves again, Nagini?" Voldemort asked without turning around. "Gibbons is most distressed and actually came to me with his complaints. I have repeatedly asked you to not eat the help, Nagini. Do not test me," he frigidly warned.
The Horcrux hissed in annoyance and did not deem a reply slithering up onto the ivory throne to rest. "So very fussy," the Horcrux hissed from its comfortable seat upon the throne. "If you must know I was hungry, and I have no qualms about eating a tiny house elf. It was delicious." It flicked its tongue out in emphasis.
Voldemort turned away from the view to study his Horcrux. His eyes narrowed slightly in displeasure at observing the serpent's actions. His Horcrux was untamable, violent, utterly malicious, and bloodthirsty. His Horcrux resembled Nagini in absolutely nothing.
At moments like these, a strange sensation could be felt in the depths of Voldemort's chest. He never knew quite what to make of it. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that he missed the company of Nagini. However, sacrifices had to be made surely Nagini would have understood that.
"What have you learned?" Voldemort coldly asked the serpent in parseltongue.
The serpent opened its mouth to yawn stretching its jaw, before replying, "Your followers are tense, some fearful and others frustrated over the lack of movement. Nothing unusual if you must know. They are much too weak to dare betray us."
Voldemort nodded his head in satisfaction, before he can take a further step, he feels a painful sizzling sensation around his neck. Salazar's Locket which hung upon his neck felt as though it was burning. Reaching up with one hand, he grabbed the locket with one hand and hurled it away from him. He hissed in pain at seeing the terrible burn upon his hand that had imprinted the coiling serpent on the front of the locket into his palm.
The serpent dove from the throne onto the floor landing with a heavy thud. Slithering forward flickering its tongue to taste the air, it approached the hurled Horcrux. Salazar's Locket had become charred remains as it had been melted and destroyed by an unseen force. The serpent did not approach any closer not daring to watch the locket dissolve into nothing but ash.
Voldemort gritted his teeth together in pain and in rage before a rare emotion began to set in fear. His crimson serpent eyes filled with rage, before becoming cold in narrow pensive thought. Not even Dumbledore would be able to destroy his Horcrux without his noticing much less his within his presence. It could have only been done by one, his enemy.
Voldemort's crimson eyes glowed eerily, before rising to his feet. Pushing the pain away; he clenched and unclenched his hand. The still stinging brand on his right hand would serve as a harsh reminder to him.
"What do you sense?" Voldemort hissed to the remaining Horcrux in his possession.
"Ancient magic," the serpent hissed as it flicked its tongue.
"Ancient magic," Voldemort pensively thought, before glancing at the window where the light of the full moon drifted through. "Tonight is Feast of Fate of the Moirai. A willing sacrifice," he paused before glancing down at his hand. "A life for a life," a bone-chilling smile spread across his face.
"I shall be more than sure to return the favor," Voldemort matter-of-factly said clenching and unclenching his hand. He would carefully plan, but he would take one of the heads of the enemy. His dear old chum from Hogwarts.