"Perhaps you've already guessed why I brought you here."
Halfway to the Shrieking Shack, Voldemort suddenly stopped and turned his head to look at the man following behind him.
"You are a clever man, after all, Severus."
The moment Voldemort turned around, his full attention locked directly onto Snape. "You have always been a loyal and faithful servant. I regret what must happen."
"Master!"
As though he had sensed something, Snape looked deeply uneasy.
"The Deathstick still cannot serve me properly, Severus." Voldemort gently stroked the wand in his hand and muttered, "Because I am not yet its true master, it has refused to perform miracles for its rightful owner as legend claims."
"Perhaps that wand is not the Deathstick you seek at all." Snape could not help taking a step back, yet he still tried to persuade Voldemort to abandon that absurd notion.
"That wand cannot possibly be the Deathstick you are searching for," he repeated. "Given Albert Anderson's nature, how could he possibly allow you to obtain such a powerful wand so easily, one that could threaten his own safety?"
"Do not forget that he is highly skilled in Divination. He certainly could not have been unaware of the legendary Deathstick. If it were me, I would have taken the Deathstick before you could, leaving you no opportunity whatsoever."
"And that wand once belonged to Dumbledore. If he truly possessed the Deathstick, he surely would have stopped you from obtaining his wand as well."
"That old fool did try to stop me from acquiring this wand. They even hid Gregorovitch from me."
Voldemort's hand paused slightly. Remembering 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.
"For that, the old