5th June - Night. Scrying.
In the main "throne room" which had once been a ballroom of this long deserted manor house, Voldemort was poring over maps, spread out on a huge dining table. Using his wand to sweep over the maps his face was angry, his eyes flaring red.
Still no sign of Potter. He hadn't really been expecting it. He had hopes that after the brat's coming of age at the end of next month things might change - but it didn't stop him for searching daily, in case the foul child slipped up - or Albus' death had made a difference to his protection.
And no sign of Greyback either. This was more interesting, and something that could be addressed now. No word in the newspapers, no word from his sources. That meant the Ministry didn't have him.
He needed someone who could get a job done, follow through. Someone with skills that extended beyond the wand. With a scowl he straightened up and pressed his wand to his forearm, concentrated and summonsed Walden Macnair.
Still no sign of Potter. He hadn't really been expecting it. He had hopes that after the brat's coming of age at the end of next month things might change - but it didn't stop him for searching daily, in case the foul child slipped up - or Albus' death had made a difference to his protection.
And no sign of Greyback either. This was more interesting, and something that could be addressed now. No word in the newspapers, no word from his sources. That meant the Ministry didn't have him.
He needed someone who could get a job done, follow through. Someone with skills that extended beyond the wand. With a scowl he straightened up and pressed his wand to his forearm, concentrated and summonsed Walden Macnair.