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Chapter 34: The Dark Lord's Fury
In the dim and oppressive confines of his lair, Voldemort sat alone, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of his anger. The dark stone walls of the chamber seemed to close in, amplifying the intensity of his ire. The flickering flames from the torches cast long, dancing shadows that only served to accentuate the menace in his crimson eyes. His pale fingers drummed a rhythmic pattern on the armrest of his throne, each tap resonating with barely contained rage.
He had spent years meticulously orchestrating his rise to power, weaving his web of fear and influence through strategic attacks and alliances. But now, all his efforts seemed at risk of unraveling, and the cause of this disruption was a singular, mysterious young wizard. The mere thought of it made Voldemort's blood boil. The audacity of this upstart, who had appeared out of nowhere and dared to challenge his dominion, was intolerable.
Voldemort's fury was stoked by the whispers that had begun circulating within his ranks. Some of his followers had begun to speak of the young wizard in hushed tones, their fear palpable. It was said that this newcomer had thwarted the attack on Diagon Alley with alarming ease, cutting down his followers and undermining his plans. He had also struck at the heart of the Ministry, eliminating Augustus Rookwood, one of Voldemort's most trusted spies, along with several other operatives.
The Dark Lord's lips curled into a sneer of contempt. The notion that a mere boy could inspire such fear in his loyal Death Eaters was infuriating. Fear was his domain, his weapon, and now it was being turned against him. His fingers tightened into a fist as he recalled the reports. This wizard, this interloper, had not only disrupted his plans but had also made a mockery of his followers, walking in and out of the Ministry of Magic as if it were his own playground.
"They dare to think he is a match for me," Voldemort hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "The world whispers of a rival, a challenger to Lord Voldemort. Fools."
He rose from his throne, his movements smooth and serpentine, his robes flowing around him like shadows. His mind was a whirlwind of fury and calculation. He had not clawed his way back from the brink of death to be thwarted by a child. His rise to power was meant to herald a new era of darkness, a world where he reigned supreme, unchallenged and invincible.
"I am the greatest wizard to ever live," he declared to the empty room, his voice filled with cold, unshakable certainty. "I have conquered death itself. No one can stand against me. Not Dumbledore, not the Ministry, and certainly not this boy."
Yet, as much as Voldemort sought to dismiss the boy's threat, he could not ignore the disruption he had caused. His plans, so carefully laid, were now in jeopardy. His Death Eaters were beginning to falter, their confidence shaken. He needed to reassert his dominance, to remind the wizarding world that he was their true master.
A sinister smile spread across his face as a plan began to take shape in his mind. He had already set the wheels in motion. His next move would be a calculated strike, one that would not only reaffirm his power but also eliminate this troublesome boy. Word had been spread among his followers: an attack on Hogsmeade was imminent. He knew the information would reach the boy, and he was counting on it.
"This time, I will be waiting," Voldemort murmured, his voice a cold whisper that echoed off the stone walls. "The world believes Hogsmeade is safe under the protection of Dumbledore. They will see how wrong they are. I will raze the village to the ground and destroy this boy in front of everyone."
His smile widened as he imagined the scene. The villagers of Hogsmeade, their faces twisted in fear, watching helplessly as their supposed savior fell. The wizarding world would witness his power, would understand the futility of resistance. Voldemort would make an example of this boy, a public display of his might that no one would forget.
"They will pay for underestimating me," he vowed, his voice a promise of retribution. "They will learn that Lord Voldemort is invincible."
The door to the chamber creaked open, and a hooded figure entered, bowing low before the Dark Lord. "My Lord," the Death Eater intoned, his voice filled with reverence, "the preparations for the attack on Hogsmeade are complete. We await your command."
Voldemort turned, his red eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Excellent," he purred, his voice a silken thread of menace. "Let them come. Let the world see the price of defiance. And when the boy arrives, I will crush him beneath my heel."
The Death Eater bowed again, retreating from the room as Voldemort resumed his seat, his mind already reveling in the chaos to come. The stage was set, and the players were in place. Soon, the wizarding world would remember who wielded the true power, and the boy who dared to challenge him would be reduced to nothing more than a footnote in the annals of his rise to ultimate dominion.