He was dead!
At that moment, Voldemort felt utterly awful. What was that old bastard Grindelwald thinking, tossing the wand straight to him?
Was he giving it to him as charity?
Voldemort felt as sick as if he had swallowed a fly. He simply could not understand how things had turned out this way.
Grindelwald had actually killed himself in the end?
Had that old bastard deliberately tried to disgust him one last time before dying?
Countless thoughts flashed through Voldemort's mind as his gaze fell upon the wand that was about to be swallowed by the flames. With a flick of his hand, he summoned it into his grasp.
Voldemort gently stroked the wand and muttered, "So this is the legendary Deathstick?"
As if to confirm whether the "Deathstick" was truly as miraculous as the legends claimed, Voldemort gave it a light wave toward the surroundings. An invisible force immediately suppressed the surging Devil's Fire. Yet Voldemort's expression was grim, for he could clearly sense that it was an ordinary wand, almost no different from the one he had taken from Dumbledore's tomb. It was even far inferior to the Yew Wand he had once used.
Why was the Deathstick unwilling to wield its power? Why would it not create miracles for its master, as the legends said it would?
Or perhaps... this was not the legendary Deathstick at all.
Though countless thoughts churned in his mind, Voldemort did not discard the wand he had gone to such lengths to obtain before confirming whether it was genuine.
Especially since his mind was in complete disarray, and he needed to calm down and sort through his thoughts.
His instincts told him that he had likely been toyed with. The only ones who would dare do such a thing were Albert