The Two Dark Lords

In the center of the room, a bonfire burned, the firewood crackling and popping.

The flickering firelight illuminated Voldemort's cold, disfigured face.

It was still summer, but he felt a bit cold. He wrapped his Little Black Robe tighter around himself and put his usually bare feet above the flames to warm them.

The already cramped and enclosed room immediately emitted a strange smell.

Voldemort's shadow, stretched long by the firelight, was projected onto the long table.

A group of Death Eaters sat on either side of the long table, shrouded in the enormous shadow.

No one dared to speak; they simply lowered their heads, as if they were mute.

It seems that as long as you lower your head, you won't be called on by the Dark Lord. It's just like a scene in class when the teacher is about to ask a question.

Some also do subtle tricks, like using their Wormtail...

He sat furtively in an inconspicuous corner, nibbling on his long fingernails, seemingly getting a manicure.

The blond hulking man, Rowle, secretly plugged his nostrils with his thick fingers, then scooped out a bunch of gelatinous substance and put it into his mouth.

He also gave Nott a look, as if inviting him to taste the saltiness as well.

Perhaps frightened by Rowle's perverted behavior, Nott shifted his position and continued to play the role of a depressed patient.

The various aspects of human nature... but overall, the Death Eaters are in low spirits and have begun to vent their unease through all sorts of bizarre behaviors.

You have to remember how high-spirited the Death Eaters were when the Dark Lord declared war last year.

They even arrogantly shouted:

They captured the Ministry of Magic in three months, destroyed the Order of the Phoenix in five months, crossed the English Channel in June, and occupied Paris in thirty-seven days before the France people surrendered.

Finally, in winter, they fought their way to Moscow and hung those Russians on streetlights.

As arrogant they were then, so dejected they are now.

Many even began planning to flee in name only, to avoid being retaliated against by the Ministry of Magic after the defeat.

It can only be said that the defeat in the last battle was a major blow to the entire Death Eaters group.

Everyone is also keenly aware that the gap between the two sides is too large.

The First Wizarding War lasted for ten years; this one will likely be... a swift defeat.

The reason for this is the gap in top-tier combat power.

Compared to the First Wizarding War, Dumbledore is still the Dumbledore, and even weaker due to his age.

Voldemort, however, was even stronger.

But the battle situation deteriorated further.

Anyone with eyes to see knows that while the Order of the Phoenix integrated the Ministry of Magic, the most important thing was... the sudden emergence of the Stark.

He disrupted the balance of power between the two major forces.

Even if Voldemort could manage a one-for-one trade with Dumbledore, the other side would still have one more person.

A powerful wizard of this caliber, if left unchecked, could instantly change the course of a battle once deployed.

Voldemort sat there, his two pale hands gripping his yew wand, observing the expressions on everyone's faces.

He sighed softly.

When morale is low, it's difficult to lead a team.

Therefore, he was waiting for someone, waiting for a wizard who could unite people's hearts and minds and turn the tide of the war.

He couldn't let the conversation remain awkward, so he looked around and suddenly shouted:

"Draco... where's Draco? Why didn't he come to the meeting, dear Narcissa?!"

Narcissa shuddered. She cautiously raised her head, her eyes sunken and filled with terror, all traces of her former elegance gone.

The woman stared wide-eyed and said humbly:

"Draco is faithfully carrying out your mission, Master."

"A mission?" Voldemort curled his lips and chuckled.

"It's August now, and there's still some time before Hogwarts starts. My mission isn't something I can carry out right now."

Voldemort's task was for Draco to kill Dumbledore and the Stark.

He couldn't even finish it at Hogwarts, let alone have any chance to get close to the two of them outside of school.

Voldemort stuck his head forward and asked coldly:

"Could it be that they're too scared to come? The Malfoy family has always been cowards."

A burst of mocking laughter erupted around the table. Many people leaned forward, exchanging amused glances, and a few even pounded the table with their fists.

"No..." Narcissa hurriedly waved her hands and cried out in a shrill voice:

"Master, Draco has spotted Potter. He's been going to Diagon Alley a lot lately. Maybe... we can catch him."

As Narcissa said this, she couldn't help but lower her head... she didn't even believe it herself.

But she didn't know why her son was so confident, daring to let her speak to the Dark Lord in this way.

Voldemort's expression remained unchanged; he knew better than anyone how well Dumbledore had protected the boy.

Perhaps this is a trap, deliberately designed to lure him into sending Death Eaters to attack, and then launch a counter-ambush.

Wasn't this how the Battle of the Department of Mysteries?

Voldemort had learned his lesson and was now much more cautious.

As for Draco... his intention was to punish Lucius for his failure and force his son to his death.

I didn't expect Draco to accomplish anything significant.

Since he wants to capture Potter, let him go. If he succeeds, great; if not... well, he'll just die.

"I hope he succeeds." Voldemort's lips curled into a slightly mocking smile.

Before Narcissa could say anything more, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Voldemort said without looking up.

Narcissa quickly shut her mouth, just as the Carrow siblings appeared and hurried in.

The Death Eaters stared curiously at the two, a brother and sister, whom they hadn't seen in a long time.

Two years ago, they were sent by Durmstrang to kill Karkaroff, the traitor.

But there was no news of them for a long time, and everyone assumed that the Carrow siblings had either died or taken the opportunity to run away.

I never expected him to come back.

Voldemort's attitude surprised many Death Eaters.

Instead of punishing them, he became excited and exclaimed:

"Amycus, you're back! That's wonderful. Has he arrived?"

"Master, he's here. He's waiting for your audience in the hall," Amycus Carrow said smugly.

"How can you treat our distinguished guests with such disrespect?" Voldemort's tone was slightly reproachful.

"Wormtail, go and respectfully invite our distinguished guest here."

Suddenly called out, the Wormtail bit off all the nails it had spent the afternoon grooming.

He stammered, "Yes, Master... Master."

Peter hurriedly climbed off the chair and rushed out of the meeting room.

"Gentlemen, I have a secret to reveal." Voldemort stood up, moving away from the campfire, and said excitedly:

"The first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, is coming soon to join forces with me."

Upon hearing this, everyone looked at each other in disbelief.

In the firelight, Voldemort's red eyes seemed to be burning as he slowly twirled his wand between his long, slender fingers.

"Two years ago in Vienna, Grindelwald escaped from Nurmengard prison, which was the result of my men making contact with him."

Voldemort looked like he had everything under control.

"After that, I had contact with him many more times, and we even signed an agreement."

Today, he kept his promise, leading the Grindelwald's Acolytes to join forces with us to attack Dumbledore and Stark!

The wizards around the table were clearly intrigued: some straightened up, while others seemed restless and excited.

Whether it's an act, a professional fake smile, or genuine belief, the point is... everyone's going wild.

At this moment, guided by the Wormtail, an old man, accompanied by several wizards, slowly walked in.

"Mr. Grindelwald, it's a pleasure to meet you," Voldemort said in a high-pitched, clear voice.

"Long time no see, Mr. Voldemort," Grindelwald said with a smile, equally warmly.

"Sit here," Voldemort said, pointing to the seat right next to him.

The old man sat down in the designated spot. Most people around the table followed his gaze.

"Where is your student?" Voldemort asked, squinting. "I don't see him."

Back in Durmstrang, this young wizard's strength had left a deep impression on him.

Voldemort was still hoping that he could keep Stark occupied.

"It was his first time in the United Kingdom, and he wanted to explore on his own. Young people are naturally curious about everything."

"Ha, I understand." Voldemort chuckled, his voice hoarse. "But he's unfamiliar with the area; I can assign him a guide."

The two struck up a warm conversation, exchanging greetings and seemingly old friends.

But I've only seen him once.

After exchanging pleasantries, Voldemort looked at the flickering flames and said in his high-pitched, clear voice:

"Alright, let's begin the meeting."

Mr. Grindelwald and I devised a plan that could not only reverse the numerical disadvantage but also quickly change the course of the battle, and hopefully defeat the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix!

I call it the Phoenix Slaying Plan!