Watching the black smoke dissipate into the crimson air, Voldemort's fury nearly made him explode.
Horcruxes!
Nothing was more precious than these treasures. They were the key to his conquest of death and path to immortality, the foundation of his invincibility!
Yet Voldemort merely stared coldly at Breen, whose brow was faintly furrowed as though puzzled, not daring to reveal any outrage beyond what was reasonable.
Would Amosta Breen know about Horcruxes?
The thought flashed through Voldemort's mind, only for him to reject it at once.
Impossible!
Amosta could not possibly know about Horcruxes. Otherwise, he would not previously have spouted such nonsense about all things eventually withering away, with no one exempt.
Besides, if Amosta Breen knew about Horcruxes, he surely would not have been able to resist the temptation of immortality.
He would have tried to make one himself. In that case, he should have recognized it, rather than appearing so bewildered.
On the other hand, there was perhaps a one-in-ten-thousand chance that that ridiculous old fossil Albus Dumbledore—who had lived for over a century, spent his years at Hogwarts, and styled himself a moral saint—would still regard Horcruxes as evil creations and keep his distance from them, even after learning of such magnificent magic!
Fortunately—
To watch, helplessly and from so close, as his most precious Horcrux was destroyed—
The pain Voldemort suffered, both mentally and magically, was second only to the agony fourteen years ago, when Avada Kedavra rebounded from Harry Potter and tore everything that made him who he was from him.
The grievous blow to body and soul made Voldemort's eye twitch uncontrollably.
Then he realized something.
He could not keep this entanglement going!
The Horcrux he had placed in Bella's vault had, through a twist of fate, been destroyed by Breen's Fiendfyre. There