Voldemort revealed a terrifying smile, but his red eyes held no emotion. He took the eyeball that looked somewhat shriveled, with veins and vessels attached, from the glass case he was dragging, and controlled it to fly toward Gregor—making the eyeball and its blood vessels look rather like an octopus.
"Put it on," Voldemort said. "Dear Gregor, demonstrate for me whether this eye your family kept is the real thing, and whether wearing it and then removing it will kill a man... If you are lucky enough to prove that it is genuine, and then survive afterward, I will permit you to provide me with further service..."
Lucius's pale face was expressionless. He realized that though the Dark Lord often lost control, after that failed duel he had regained some measure of caution—he had not used the artifact, from which no magic could be sensed at all, directly on himself.
"Idiot, can't you hear the Dark Lord's command?" Lucius urged. "Master! Let me help him complete it!"
Gregor's teeth chattered as he bit his lower lip, his eyes brimming with tears of utter terror. He knew he could not resist. In truth, he had no other choice. Trembling, he raised his right hand, for the sake of staying alive.
Voldemort's savage gaze did not leave the wizard sprawled on the ground before him like a lump of mud. He continued to ask softly, hissing, "Lucius, how is your friend Rodolphus progressing?"
"Master... Rodolphus wrote to explain..." Lucius did not dare be negligent. He chose his words with extreme care. "Master, because every corridor and every room in the ruins has been set with multiple incantations, and because these spells come from ancient times and differ somewhat from our modern magic, the Curse-Breakers' progress has been rather slow..." Noticing Voldemort's frown,