Durmstrang Headmaster's Office.
Herpo's condition these past few days had been somewhat similar to Filch's. He too found it hard to sleep, troubled by all manner of things.
Even after coming to the Headmaster's Office and standing before Voldemort, he still found it difficult to suppress the anger and anxiety in his heart.
After reading the newspaper's front-page headline, he unconsciously crumpled the paper into a ball. A tongue of flame sprang from his hand, reducing it directly to ashes.
He began cursing again. "Damn it! Which damned bastard actually thought of breaking into Gringotts? Damn it!"
"Now the whole world knows about it! Those goblins are finished! The Ministry of Magic will purge them clean soon enough!"
His voice grew increasingly hysterical. "Which damned idiot did something like this? I swear I'll—"
As usual, Voldemort remained seated in the Headmaster's chair, his expression icy and utterly unmoved.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Barty Crouch Jr. standing off to one side, openly yawn before raising his pinky to pick at his ear.
The gesture was full of impatience. If this had been the Barty Crouch Jr. of the past, he would already have understood what Voldemort meant.
What Barty Crouch Jr. would have done next was mock Herpo with cutting, venomous words, making him shut that endlessly chattering mouth of his.
Unfortunately, the current Barty Crouch Jr. did no such thing. He merely stood there like a puppet, wearing an expression of utmost respect.
In the days before the Easter holidays arrived, Voldemort himself had not been having a particularly good time either.
He had controlled a group of goblins to break into Gringotts, successfully opened the Lestrange family vault, and successfully discovered that his Horcrux... was no longer inside it!
Though he had considered that possibility,