On the outskirts of the village of Sharmourn, countless dark hooded figures appear on the winding, steep path overlooking the muggle village down below. A handful of Death Eaters collapse onto the ground, before being levitated and helped by comrades up the twisting path toward Gibbon's manor. Beneath the glittering pearl sheen of their masks, many of the faces of the Death Eaters are tense.
The decaying trees loom over them as the Death Eaters enter Gibbon's manor as they temporarily return to their old hideout. The Aurors would be too busy to leave guards at Gibbons Manor. However, it was only a temporary measure, and they would depart soon enough. The wards of their new headquarters did not permit strangers inside the wards without the express permission and that included a healer. Nor is the location easily side-apperated or accessible nor is the location able to be spoken out loud as the Dark Lord had placed a curse on the name of the location to prevent betrayal.
The wounded Death Eaters are rushed inside Gibbons Manor to be tended as best possible while sworn healers are sent to be summoned by house elves. Most of the wounds were treatable, but not without severe scarring or severe bodily repercussions. Others are too far gone to be saved, but still, a portrayed effort must be made.
The front entrance doors of Gibbons Manor abruptly are blasted off their metal hinges loudly sliding several feet across the marble floor. A feeling of icy, dread settles into the pit of the Death Eaters in the front hall. With crimson serpent eyes blazing, Voldemort's snake-slit nostrils flare. His wand is tightly clenched in his spider-like hands ready to be released at the slightest slight.
The smarter Death Eaters immediately kneel down to appease the wrath of their master. The remaining Death Eaters follow, but Voldemort pays his followers no mind striding forward with his black robes swirling about him like dark, ominous clouds. To the disbelief of the Death Eaters, Voldemort ignores them entirely in favor of entering the inner hall. The doors slam loudly behind him echoing through the front hall leaving the Death Eaters gazing at each other with worry and apprehension.
Coiled upon the ivory throne is an enormous serpent as thick as a man's thigh and over twelve feet long that emerged 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 more importantly the Dark Lord's ears and eyes had been left behind to guard the location and kill any trespassers (namely Aurors).
The serpent lazily opened its malice-filled yellow serpent eyes. The serpent's tongue flickered in mockery, "Ah, and so the great lords with great triumph and fanfare."
"Silence!" Voldemort warned unable to maintain his fury at bay.
The Horcrux snorted in disdain and rested its head upon its coiled form. "Ah, so you were defeated. I thought I smelled the scent of failure."
"I said enough!" Voldemort roared shattering the entire floor of the chamber.
The serpent lazily flicks its tongue, before half-closing its malicious yellow eyes, and opening them wide in incredulity. The serpent tasted the air again in blatant disbelief. "You are shocked, no, apprehensive." The snake tilted its head in the air. "What is it that has filled you with such apprehension?"
Voldemort is silent staring out of the window towards the muggle village residing down below. His crimson serpent eyes burn with anger, but also a strange mix of emotions. He did not like feeling uncertain nor much feeling so emotional. Emotions are weak. And he had no need for such weakness.
Turning away from the view, Voldemort raises his hand and consciously relaxes the grip on his wand. His crimson serpent eyes rise to meet those of his Horcrux. "The granddaughter of Reginald Prince is also a pareslmouth."
The serpent hisses in mockery flashing venomous, sharp fangs. "Ah, so their lineage is true after all. I suppose that will clear any remaining doubts regarding the Prince's lineage."
Voldemort gives the serpent a sharp look, before unconsciously glancing at the thin scar on his hand. The wound almost itched as he recalled the blood pact between him and Reginald Prince. The two could not actively harm each other, but that did not mean they could not harm each other.
The serpent pensively hisses, "If you cannot kill Reginald Prince then make him your ally. Bind him to you."
"Did you hear nothing I have said, Nagini?!" Voldemort's eyes flashed coldly. "I failed to destroy Reginald Prince's underbelly. The old Prince's wrath will only be redoubled!"
"So dramatic," the serpent blinked as if rolling its eyes in exasperation. "Come now, you cannot be this thick?"
"Nagini," Voldemort growled dangerously at his Horcrux.
"It is a practice as old as time," the serpent swayed its head in the air. "All matter of creatures participates in the procreation of life. Naturally, two parselmouth's will breed true."
Voldemort is struck silent in shock and genuine surprise. The thought to procreate had never truly crossed his mind. Not that he had not conceived lustful thoughts or fulfilled his bodily urges. However, he had never found a witch worth of truly receiving his seed.
The enormous serpent leisurely uncoils from the ivory throne easily gliding across the broken tile floor. "Bind the granddaughter to yourself," the serpent lazily hissed. "Reginald Prince may despise you, but he will not kill the spouse of his granddaughter."
"No, Reginald Prince will not permit such a union," Voldemort retorted failing to notice the weakening tone in his voice.
"Ah, but Reginald Prince did not slay the muggle husband of Eileen Prince," the serpent persuasively replied ignoring the fact that Tobias Snape had been a squib descendant of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and had been murdered by Antonin Dolohov.
"And you will rule, Voldemort, yes, you will rule all," the serpent cleverly whispered, "However, you will need an heir like all rulers. And there is no guarantee a parselmouth gifted child will be born to you. Unless, of course, a similarly gifted mate is found."
Voldemort had zero interest in Reginald Prince's granddaughter, Rowan Prince. However, he could not deny his interest is piqued. Perchance, the notion requires further consideration.
The serpent frowned and sniffed the air again. "You are wounded."
Voldemort abruptly recalled the untended wound on his body. "It is of no consequence," he waved off the serpent's concern. Indeed, with a simple wave of his wand, the wound magically sealed shut. And though the wound had been sealed shut an untraceable poison already flowed through his veins. There would be no immediate effects, but the effects would slowly begin to appear as the months passed.
Feeling very much himself again, Voldemort's crimson serpent eyes began to gleam with renewed vigor. The giants by now would be dead or captured by the Ministry of Magic. He would have inevitably rid himself of the giants after their use. However, there was no need to do so now.
With a cold smile, Voldemort motions for Nagini to follow him. The two departed for the graveyard in the manor to think as Voldemort's mind began to churn dark, twisted plots. Nagini equally imagines eating live prey. There is much to do and so little time.