Durmstrang Headmaster's Office.
Herpo's condition these days was somewhat similar to Filch's. He likewise found it hard to sleep and was troubled by all sorts of things.
Even after he came to the Headmaster's Office and stood before Voldemort, he still found it difficult to restrain the anger and anxiety in his heart.
After reading the front-page news of the newspaper, he unconsciously crumpled it into a ball. A cluster of flames sprang from his hand and burned the newspaper straight to ash.
He started cursing again. "Damn it! Which damned bastard was it, thinking of breaking into Gringotts! Damn it!"
"Now the whole world knows about this! Those Goblins are finished! They'll soon be purged clean by the Ministry of Magic!"
His voice grew increasingly hysterical. "Which damned fool did something like this? I swear I'll..."
As usual, Voldemort was still seated in the headmaster's chair, his expression cold, not the slightest ripple on his face.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Barty Crouch Jr., standing at one side, open his mouth and let out an undisguised yawn, even raising his little finger to pick at his ear.
The gesture was full of his impatience. If this had been the old Barty Crouch Jr., he would already have understood his intent.
What Barty Crouch Jr. would do next was mock Herpo with sharp, biting words and make Herpo shut that endlessly chattering mouth.
Unfortunately, the current Barty Crouch Jr. did not do that. He merely stood there like a puppet, wearing an utterly respectful expression.
In the days before the Easter Holiday arrived, Voldemort's life had not actually been that pleasant either.
He had controlled a group of Goblins to break into Gringotts, successfully opened the Lestrange Family Vault, and successfully discovered that his Horcrux... was no