He was dead! At that moment, Voldemort felt utterly awful. What was that old bastard Grindelwald thinking, throwing his wand directly to him?
Was he giving it to him out of charity?
Voldemort felt as sickened 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 before dying? Countless thoughts flashed through Voldemort's mind as his gaze fell on the wand 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, "This is the legendary Deathstick?"
As if to confirm whether the "Deathstick" truly was as miraculous as legend claimed, Voldemort gave it a light wave at his surroundings. An invisible force immediately suppressed the roiling Magic Flame. Yet Voldemort's expression was grim, because he could clearly sense that it was an ordinary wand. It was almost no different from the wand he had taken from Dumbledore's tomb, and 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? Or was this... 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 a complete mess right now. He needed to calm down and sort out his thoughts.
His intuition told him that he had most likely been played. And the only ones who would dare do that were Albert Anderson, that Mudblood, or Dumbledore.
Otherwise, Grindelwald