The doors to the gall shut loudly echoing throughout the stone chamber. Ambrogio Sangria's pale, blue-veined hand feebly moves in a gesture to speak up. "I am old, and my hearing is not what it used to be," Ambrogio smoothly croaked in a lie. "Let us speak candidly between the two of us, Lord Voldemort."
Voldemort's expression flickers slightly in pleasure at being properly addressed. Still, he narrows his crimson serpent gaze at the vision of a feeble, decrepit vampire nearing the end of his life. "Forgive me, but I find myself surprised. An old friend described Ambrogio Sangria as a pathetic blood leech. I believed the description to be an exaggeration and yet I find myself astonished by the accurate portrayal."
Ambrogio Sangria's face twitches slightly in irritation, but he masks his irritation with a spasming cough. Loudly clearing his throat, he rasps, "Alas even Death catches up with the best of us," causing Voldemort's face to tighten chillily.
The two men gaze at each other for a tense moment, before Ambrogio Sangria straightens with a charming smile. All traces of age and infirmity vanish in an instance revealing a powerful vampire. Flashing his fangs in a wide glittering smile, the vampire says, "I suppose that is enough of fun and games. Shall we speak of the matters at hand?"
"I was under the impression that the coven would agree to be allies," Voldemort plainly stated with a deadly chill in his gaze.
"And I was under the impression that a certain half-blood child would be killed if not brought still living back to me, but alas that did not occur," Ambrogio Sangria sneered in retort. "I made no grand requests, but merely a measly proof of an alliance, and even that failed most miserably."
"It shall not happen again," Voldemort frigidly vowed, before pressing his lips into a thin line. "However, at this juncture, the half-breed child cannot be delivered."
"What?!" Ambrogio Sangria impatiently barked. He required the blood of his kind for substance and the blood of his last kill was fading away again. He needed the blood of younger vampires to length the interval, but newborn vampires were most carefully guarded by their sires.
"The Blacks owe the child a blood debt and have adopted the child into their fold to be raised by them," Voldemort matter-of-factly replied. "The Blacks are a pureblood family with a long reach, and I will not make more of an enemy of them than already has been made."
Voldemort's crimson eyes narrow serpent-like as if about to strike. "And half-breed or not that child attends Hogwarts and is considered a wizard." He deliberately paused," Your interest in that half-breed child is most unnatural Ambrogio Sangria unless one requires the blood of one of their kind to extend a most unnatural of life span."
Ambrogio Sangria's face freezes in rage and dismay at his most vulnerable of secrets being discovered. His fingers dig into the marble chair causing the marble to begin to crack under the sheer force of his grasp. "I am not the only one with a hidden secret, Voldemort," the elderly vampire sneered dropping all pleasantries. "Your serpent ranks of madness and death which only a forbidden creation could stink of such vileness, a Horcrux."
Voldemort's long spider-like hands stretched and clench across the table causing blue, razor-sharp talons to leave deep scratches across the wooden circular table. "Is that a threat?" He dangerously inquired.
"No," Ambrogio Sangria truthfully spat out. He had no desire to gain the wrath of a mad man. "And though I am ancient, Voldemort, I am not blind nor decrepit. In ages past, those that have meddled with such trickery foolishly believing to prolong their life have all been extinguished time and time again. And yet here I stand centuries later while their corpses rot beneath the ground.
Voldemort abruptly rises causing his chair to screech loudly as it falls back with a loud clatter. "It would seem we have reached an impasse," he coolly said.
"So, it seems," Ambrogio Sangria muttered without a hint of remorse.
Voldemort does not respond and instead turns his back on the vampire. Without any touch, the doors to the hallway slam open permitting Voldemort to pass unhinged. With dark robes flapping the terrifying dark pale skeletal wizard passes through the vampire citadel unbarred. Without a single word, the crowds fall silent and part in half permitting the three Death Eaters in attendance to hurry after their master.
The three Death Eaters rush out their master while the crowd of vampires hurriedly part to permit the slithering serpent snapping poisonous fangs to pass by unheeded. The low-ranked vampires in livery on the ground stiffly stand their ground while others hurriedly flee under the excuse of preparing a carriage for departure. Within seconds, the carriage is ready as the unwilling coach driver, a lesser ranked-vampire ushers the dark-winged steeds with crimson eyes out into the night.
The winged steeds' warm breaths steam from their mouths and nostrils like brimstone. The veteran steeds leap into the sky and flap their massive wings towards the front of the citadel. The coach driver expertly steers the steeds until they round the citadel, before landing on the cobble-stoned path. The carriage lands with a soft thud as the hooves of the winged steeds clatter loudly in a trot.
The elegant carriage rolls to a precise stop before the descending figure of Voldemort. Before the coach driver can leap down to open the carriage, the carriage door magically slams open permitting the enormous serpent to dart into the dark depths of the carriage. Voldemort lifts his dark robes slightly with one hand to step inside and is quickly followed by his loyal servants, MaCann, Sirglide, and Bonnenne.
The carriage door slams shut, and the carriage driver takes that as the signal to depart. The coach driver snaps the reigns of the winged steed causing the carriage to move forward as the winged steeds gather speed before leaping into the air. The carriage hovers for a moment in the air, before drifting into the dark frozen night sky.
The carriage remains steady in the frozen air returning toward the original point of departure. Within the carriage, Voldemort's crimson eyes glow in the darkness. A soft hiss can be heard every now and again from the curled-up form of Nagini at Lord Voldemort's feet. The seats next to Voldemort are empty as all three Death Eaters are crammed together on the seats directly opposite from him.
MaCann's face is twisted in arrogance causing the long scar across his face to stretch. Yet his eyes always peek at the serpent lying coiled on the carriage floor. He is not the only one as the spotted face of Sirglide is stiff with unease. He holds himself rigidly with fists clenched within the sleeves of his robes. The only exception is the witch with dragon pox scars on her face Bonnenne. The witch holds herself alertly and stares with awe and reverence at being in such close proximity to their Master.
Voldemort's long pale spider-like hands reach down to automatically caress the top of Nagini's flat viper head, before freezing in mid-air. He would not gain any comfort from his comfort but rather only scorn and contempt. He slowly withdraws his hand back to his lap, but traces of discomfort can be noted on his skull-like face.
Irritation sparks within Voldemort's crimson eyes at his apparent weakness. His razor-sharp blue talons glint for a moment tapping methodically against each other. His crimson serpent eyes predatorily turn to the three seated Death Eaters across from him. MaCann covertly turns his head to the side avoiding his master's gaze, while Sirglide's gaze remains firmly fixed at Voldemort's feet. It is only Bonnenne, who dares to hesitantly raise her gaze to nearly meet Voldemort's gaze.
"Your loyalty and dedication for our worthy cause will be rewarded," Voldemort plainly said carefully studying the three Death Eater's reactions. All three reveal glimpses of relief, greed, and even awe especially that of Bonnenne. It reminds him of one other a beautiful witch with dark hair and gray eyes that had been taken too early from his side, Bellatrix, who had always been devoted to the cause and willing to do anything to aid their cause.
Voldemort's crimson eyes fill with a rare emotion of nostalgia for the past. At that moment, he could almost hear the proud voice of Bellatrix and the lively emotion on her face and gray eyes. He can almost smell the sultry scent of her perfume and the softness of her hands. His half-closed eyes hurtle open in shock and self-admonishment at his moment of weakness.
Crimson serpent eyes become frigid as Voldemort's gaze lingers upon the witch. That reminded him, that his loyal hand, Lestrange needed to be wed and produce strong pureblood children to be his loyal followers. Yes, Bonnenne would do mostly loyal for the position. The witch would consider it an honor and Lestrange would not disobey his will. He would not make the announcement until Lestrange's return from the Acolytes.
Closing his eyes, Voldemort began to plot in the silence his next movement. His enemy believed him weak, but he would show his enemy otherwise. And in turn, he would drag those that betrayed him in the past to Hell.