In a modest Muggle town in France, inside an unassuming mansion, gathered a peculiar quartet: Lucas, plagued by mental instability; Ivo, an amputee with a persistent limp; Emil, still bitter over a childhood lollipop stolen by a Muggle; and Tobias, burdened by high blood pressure, high blood sugar, and high cholesterol. They were joined by Isolde Carpenter, a recent addition whose self-taught, rudimentary understanding of Horcruxes had quickly earned him Voldemort's remnant soul's favor.
This ragtag group, Voldemort's remnant soul's version of Death Eaters at their absolute peak, had assembled!
"Whatever Master wants, we will deliver, Isolde," Emil declared, crossing his arms, his cross-eyed gaze fixed intensely, but fruitlessly, on Isolde.
"That's right. We'll even exceed expectations," Tobias added from his seat on the sofa, his voice surprisingly firm despite his frail condition.
"If all else fails, just stay out of our way and handle the minor tasks. Master won't hold it against you," Ivo said, shaking his head with a hint of disdain. He harbored no fondness for Isolde, this newcomer who had so swiftly ascended to their ranks.
"Just don't interfere with Master's plans," Lucas warned, his animosity towards Isolde palpable, though less pronounced than the others.
Clearly, the "old, weak, sick, and disabled" quartet resented Isolde. Perhaps it was jealousy? Voldemort's remnant soul clearly favored Isolde.
Isolde ignored their veiled threats. Only a fool argues with fools. I'll prove my worth through action.
As the five waited, tension building to a near-explosive point... Voldemort's remnant soul, having traded its bathrobe for its tattered Death Eater robes, led Lanlock, clad once more in his mithril armor, into the living room.
"" The "old, weak, sick, and disabled" quartet watched "discreetly" as Lanlock stood beside Voldemort's remnant soul. How dare that despicable goblin stand so close to the Dark Lord?! That position should be mine!
"" Lanlock's already wrinkled brow furrowed deeper. He "keenly" sensed the quartet's gazes; their animosity was blatant, especially from the cross-eyed one. Did he think he was being subtle?! He was genuinely annoyed by his partner's incompetent subordinates, so obviously dense.
Voldemort's remnant soul noticed the resentment directed at Lanlock but did nothing to quell it; in fact, he relished the dwarf's discomfort.
"Ahem..." Voldemort's remnant soul's expression turned serious. "You all know why I've summoned you, correct?"
"Yes, Master," Isolde answered, beating the "old, weak, sick, and disabled" quartet to the punch. "We must complete the task those idiotic fairies failed to accomplish." He seized the opportunity to disparage the fairies, knowing Voldemort's remnant soul held them in low regard.
"Hmm." Voldemort's remnant soul nodded, a faint smile playing on its lips. He appreciated Isolde's perceptiveness. "Indeed, those dwarves are utterly useless."
Lanlock's already wrinkled face contorted further, marred by the combined sarcasm. ""
"Ahem..." Lanlock interjected, "We need you to go"
"Shut up!"
Lanlock was taken aback.
"Who authorized you to speak?" Tobias demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Lanlock.
Ivo sneered, "The Dark Lord hasn't spoken, yet you dare interrupt? Do you dare to disrespect the Dark Lord?! You contemptible goblin! You think you're worthy?!"
Lucas remained silent, but his displeasure was evident.
Lanlock: "" Fine, fine. I'll say nothing more. You can all go to your deaths!
Voldemort's remnant soul's blood-red eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. He delighted in seeing the damned dwarf humiliated. However, now wasn't the time. Securing the Veela and escaping were the priority.
Voldemort's remnant soul spoke again, "You must know that another version of myself has emerged here, and he possesses what I desire..."
"Fear not, Master!" Tobias declared fervently. "We will retrieve it for you! No one can stop us!"
"" I can't even beat that version of myself, and you think you can just steal it? Who are you trying to fool with this arrogance? Voldemort's remnant soul gave him an appraising look before continuing, "The goblins we sent previously failed."
"Hmph! That useless bunch..." Emil interrupted without permission, cowering under Voldemort's remnant soul's glare and quickly fell silent, daring not to speak again.
"I need you to retrieve a pureblood Veela. By any means necessarysteal it, rob itI leave the specifics to you. But remember: avoid my other self." Voldemort's remnant soul didn't dwell on Emil's transgression; he had few pawns to spare.
After spending a few minutes explaining the mission, Voldemort's remnant soul watched the "old, weak, sick, and disabled" quartet and Isolde depart... These are the last of my Death Eaters.
Only then did Lanlock speak. "Do you truly believe they can capture that Veela?"
Voldemort's remnant soul didn't answer, because the answer was self-evident. They'd be fools to succeed.
Over the past few days, Voldemort's remnant soul had decided a change of plans was prudent. Sending these useless subordinates was merely a convenient excuse; their inevitable failure would facilitate his escape.
After all, my decision to change targets stemmed from a desire not to squander resources, not from fear of Tom!
"" Lanlock glanced at Voldemort's remnant soul several times, his expression unreadable. He couldn't claim to know Voldemort's remnant soul's full intentions, but he had his suspicions. He didn't particularly care.
He, too, needed an excuse. He had no desire to personally aid Voldemort's remnant soul in the endeavor; the risks outweighed the rewards.
If Voldemort's remnant soul was willing to act, fine; if not... he'd flee as well. It was all the samewhoever captured the Veela, what difference did it truly make?
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Not for nothing there's more story waiting beyond this page. Written and patient, no cap . Unlock it when you're ready. It won't rush you. Neither will I. Go when you're ready."