Durmstrang Headmaster's Office.
Calchas repeated expressionlessly, "So I need to personally remind them and see when they'll loosen their grip and return what belongs to Hogwarts."
From the moment Calchas mentioned "Hufflepuff's Cup," Voldemort had turned away, clasping his hands behind his back rather than facing Herpo and the others directly.
Once Calchas had finished recounting the entire conversation, Voldemort narrowed his eyes to slits and slowly drew in a breath.
Though he tried his utmost to restrain his emotions, his shoulders still trembled faintly.
"That was what Dumbledore said?" His voice was soft, like the hiss of a snake flicking its tongue. "His exact words? Are you certain you repeated them in full?"
"Of course!" Calchas's tone was brimming with certainty. "If it were a complex pattern, I might only be able to recreate an approximation."
"But their words... I'm confident I can repeat them exactly, without any deviation."
Calchas, who had seemed fairly spirited when he had previously possessed Grigory Vladimirov, now looked like a completely different person.
Most of his hair had fallen out, wrinkles covered his entire body, and the breath of life within him seemed liable to cut off at any moment. This was one of the prices of using the Eye of Heaven.
"Without any deviation?" Voldemort's tone abruptly turned cold. "So... there is still a chance of deviation, then? Cruciatus Curse!"
He casually flicked his wand backward, and a bone-chilling magical ripple instantly filled the Headmaster's Office.
Struck by the Cruciatus Curse, Calchas immediately collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing violently as though seized by a fit.
Calchas's convulsions did not last long. A few seconds later, he had stopped breathing altogether.
A cloud of black mist drifted from his face, gathering into a mass of black fog that bobbed up and