The pack swiftly vanished into the shadows of the forest and was simply gone. Exhausted Ophelia tiredly sits down on the forest ground right next to her lover. She patiently waits for HIM to arrive.
Feeling the end drawing closer, Ophelia dries her blade on tree leaves, before slipping the silver blade into her clothes. Safely hidden away, she knows that that the dark wizards will be coming soon once again, and they would arrive before the moon reached the peak in the night sky.
Ophelia closed her eyes and tiredly leaned against the tree trunk to continue to wait and briefly rest. Poor Timothy nor any of the pack could not truly understand as to why she 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 orders from their deceased slave master, and the foul 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 filled with the stench of evil. But Timothy and the rest of the pack were still innocent enough, and therefore could still be saved. The same could not have been said for herself and her beloved, Weiss.
Ophelia is jostled out of her inner thoughts by loud elephant-like footsteps that can easily be heard throughout the woods. Two panting figures steadily approach to reveal the first being a stocky witch with stubby fingers, Alecto Carrow wheezing out, "Wolf!"
Ophelia ignored the witch until the pudgy, dough-like brother, Amycus Carrow snarled, "Stupid mutts, where are you?!"
Ophelia soundlessly rises from her seat on the ground and brushed the dirt off clothes. Striding silently through the woods like a ghost she appeared from out of nowhere before the pair of brother and sister causing them to stumble in panic and reach for their wands. "Yes, you called?" Ophelia distantly answered in reply.
Alecto wrinkled her nose at the sweaty 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 replied.
"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 and into the stone hall, where the evil skeleton-like wizard resides. All around the room kneel 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 once more said.
Glancing at the dried blood splattered on her clothes, Voldemort leans back in his chair and eyed 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 slowdown in slow motion. A small smile appeared on her face as bright flickering lights like flowers bloomed all around her. It was 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 in my opinion that the werewolves are not only long gone but have fled to London to receive the cure. It will be nigh impossible to retrieve them with the Auror's 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 pawns and were of no further use as it was."
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 say, 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 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 can react, he suddenly finds a blade against 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 curly says, "I grow weary of this tiresome conversation, come, Dolohov."
Dolohov out of respect or out of boredom remained silent. The two Death Eater's 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.