"Perhaps you have already guessed why I brought you here."
Halfway to the Shrieking Shack, Voldemort suddenly stopped and turned his head toward the man following behind him. "You are a clever man, after all, Severus."
The moment Voldemort turned around, all his attention locked directly onto Snape. "You have always been a loyal servant. I regret what must happen, Master!"
Snape seemed to sense something and looked deeply uneasy. "The Deathstick still cannot serve me properly, Severus." Voldemort lightly stroked the wand in his hand and murmured, "Because I am not yet its true master, it has refused to create miracles for its rightful owner as the legends claim."
"Perhaps that wand is not the Deathstick you seek at all." Snape involuntarily took a step back, but still tried to persuade Voldemort to abandon that absurd notion. "That wand cannot be the Deathstick you are looking for," he repeated. "Given Albert Anderson's nature, how could he possibly allow you to so easily obtain a wand powerful enough to threaten his own safety?"
"Do not forget, that man is very skilled at Divination. He could not possibly have been unaware of the legendary Deathstick. If it were me, I would certainly have taken the Deathstick before you did and left you no opportunity at all."
Snape's hand paused slightly. Thinking of how difficult it had been to obtain the Deathstick, he did not believe the wand in his hand was fake, nor was he willing to believe it was fake.
Albert tightened his grip on his wand, and the unease on his face deepened. "Do not worry. That man will have the cannon fodder go first."
"And that wand once belonged to Dumbledore. If he truly possessed the Deathstick, he would certainly have tried to stop you from obtaining my