In a lavishly furnished room, Voldemort reclined in a soft armchair, with flames burning gently in the fireplace nearby.
His blood-red eyes, narrow as two slits, gleamed eerily in the firelight.
Directly before him, a magical projection played footage of the first task.
Voldemort watched the images absently, stroking Nagini's head.
Then Zhang Xiao appeared on the screen, standing before the dragon, brilliant golden light surging around his body.
A trace of interest finally entered Voldemort's gaze, as though he had spotted prey.
After that thick spell, crackling with lightning, knocked the dragon down, its lingering radiance remained in Voldemort's eyes for a long time.
"Bella-" His cold voice echoed softly through the room.
"Master-you called?" Bellatrix rose from one of the chairs behind him and hurried to his side, bowing low.
Voldemort stroked Nagini. "Was he the one who stopped you from killing the others in the church?"
Bellatrix stared venomously at Zhang Xiao on the screen as he retrieved the key from the dragon's neck.
"Yes, Master. He seems to know some strange incantation. He was glowing like that in the church, too, and he moved very fast..."
The other Death Eaters, who had remained silent, also recalled that streak of golden light darting back and forth through the church that day.
They remembered the helplessness of being unable to aim at him, let alone hit him. They had never imagined that noble wizards like themselves could be killed with mere blades.
They dared not raise their voices, offering only low murmurs of agreement.
The red light in Voldemort's eyes grew brighter. He hated geniuses, and this young wizard before him was undoubtedly one.
"Master-" Bellatrix said cautiously. "Should we-should we kill him?"
Kill him? A jumble of emotions flooded Voldemort's mind, making it difficult even to think.