Helthorn Ⅳ

Soft murmurs fill the chamber as Acolyte's whispered, before falling silent at Krafft slamming his hand loudly against the table. "How dare a mere half-blood insinuate that the greatest dark wizard of his time is not fit to lead us!" There are a few murmurs of agreement as several Acolytes stealthily and not so sneakily reach for their wands ready to avenge the insult.

A bark of laughter erupts from Reginald Prince's lips that just as soon ended. "Gellert is most assuredly not mad," he plainly retorted, before pausing to press his lips in thought. "However, his stay at Nurmengard would surely leave a blemish. The man that was imprisoned Nurmengard may not be the same wizard that leaves in return."

"Are you suggesting Gellert has softened since his imprisonment, Prince?" Abernathy wryly asked.

"There is the matter of Dumbledore to consider," Reginald Prince is unable to fully hide his dislike of the wizard in question. "Gellert has always had a perpetual weakness for Dumbledore. We all know that Gellert could not bring himself to bring true harm to Dumbledore not even during the first campaign of the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. We all know that Dumbledore declined to serve at that time but has since accepted the honor."

"Dumbledore in some manner is a much easier foe in the present, but in other manners, he has become infinitely far more difficult to remove," Reginald continued. "I am pressed to speak the truth; can we be certain that Gellert will not soften again in the face of Albus Dumbledore?"

Not even the staunchest of Grindelwald's supporters can argue with that indisputable fact. There was a tie between Grindelwald and Dumbledore that could not be broken. Weak, yes, but a shared bond of the past that tied them together even in the present.

"Gellert did not abide weakness, and we will follow the precepts set by him," Nagel steadfastly declared earning more than a few nods of approval from the most bloodthirsty among them.

Sensing the tide change, Krafft straightens up and immediately strikes. "I propose we consider an alliance between us and Voldemort," he deliberately paused. "However, there must be a show of faith. An attempt on Nurmengard must be made before the first snow of Winter. And whether the attempt is successful is irrelevant rather it is for Voldemort to prove to us his capabilities and whether he is worthy of an alliance between us."

The chamber is filled with low murmurs, but many find themselves agreeing with Karfft's proposal. Should Voldemort be successful the point would be redundant as Grindelwald would return to lead them. Should Voldemort fail, they would find themselves a worthy ally to once more bring about a new world order! Either way, the Acolytes would triumph.

"It appears we have a motion. Is there a quorum?" MacDuff asked as many of the Acolytes gave their approval with others remained silent in disagreement or abstaining.

With a sly grin, MacDuff says, "To a long and prosperous alliance, Voldemort," the sly wizard tilted his head at Voldemort, who barely returned the sentiment.

Toying with the human teeth necklace, MacDuff craftily glances at Reginald Prince, who is aloof and shows no sign of emotion at the decision. "If I recall correctly, Prince, you attended the Malfoy wedding did you not?"

Reginald's face turns frigid as MacDuff deliberately continues, "Mm, you have my belated condolences on the death of your wife."

Voldemort's face grows still crimson serpent eyes darting at Reginald Prince. Rodolphus Lestrange does not even move a muscle, while Gibbon is unable to stop himself from murmuring under his breath, "Sanguis Enim Sanguis."

The chamber falls quiet as Reginald's dark eyes grow darker and chillier. "Blood for blood, the debt must be repaid," Reginald icily said raising his bottomless eyes to meet the crimson serpent eyes of Voldemort.

"I feared as much," MacDuff regretfully shook his head. "Prince, we have always extended our courtesy to you, Prince, despite never having bound yourself to the cause. Gellert was always understanding of your decision and in turn, we ask the same favor be returned. We cannot have you killing a potential ally, Prince in a moment of emotional weakness."

The sharp cheeks of Reginald tighten in anger at the statement. The air in the chamber seems to grow colder and heavier. Subconsciously many Acolytes find their breathing to be harsher as if the air has grown too heavy for their lungs.

"It is rather simple, MacDuff," Abernathy interrupted. "A blood vow is not easily broken," he paused to charmingly smile, "but a blood pact can be used to constrain two parties. We all saw also how the blood pact equally constrained Gellert and Dumbledore."

"The Dark Lord would be willing to enter into a blood pact if the Head of the Prince household is willing," Lestrange smoothly said earning the approval of many including Voldemort, who did not believe the elderly wizard of setting his pride aside to do so.

Reginald abruptly rises causing the chair to slide back roughly. Reaching over with one hand, he removes the lodged dagger of Slytherin from the table. Several reach for their wand, when Reginald to their shock slices his hand open with the blade. "I, Reginald Prince, vow to bring no harm to Voldemort by my hand unto death. Unto death so mote be lest death fall upon me, ut fiat festucam."

The blood that drips from Reginald's palm rises slowly in the air magically hovering and gathering in place. Reginald holds the blade out to Voldemort, who presses his lips into a thin line. He had no desire to forge such a blood pact and he had mistakenly believed Reginald Prince would be unwilling to bind himself in such a manner to an enemy. It was his mistake.

Unwilling Voldemort accepts the dagger, before barely slicing his palm open. Dark blood gathers in his hand as he reluctantly is forced to magically vow by his muggle name. "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle pledge to bring no harm to Reginald Prince by my hand unto Death. Unto death so mote be lest death fall upon me, ut fiat festucam."

The droplets of blood violently dart forward and violently clash in combination. The droplets of blood spin faster and faster creating a dark eerie light. The dark sphere splits into two revealing two glistening rings. The silver ring that falls towards Reginald Prince is a serpent with crimson eyes biting its own tail. However, the silver ring that falls towards Voldemort is that of a wyvern with folded wings and sapphire eyes biting its own tail.

The serpent ring in Reginald's hand begins to uncurl revealing the poisonous mouth of the serpent. However, just as quickly Reginald quashes his murderous intentions, and the serpent ring returns as it was before. Slipping the ring on his left hand, he silently heals his left hand. Before casting the summoning charm and having the dagger of Slytherin return to him.

Voldemort hand grips the wyvern ring with hatred but winces as the sharp wings of the Wyvern unfurl cutting into his palm. Rapidly bringing himself under control, Voldemort heals his palm. He does not put the ring in his hand, but rather unwillingly slides the ring into the pocket of his dark robes.

"I have other pressing matters to attend to, but I trust we shall be in contact," Voldemort curtly excused himself, before turning on his heels followed closely by Gibbons. Rodolphus Lestrange tarried for a moment to politely bow before following closely in tow.

The chamber breaks out into whispered conversations as Reginald heals the wound on his hand with ease. Pocketing the dagger of Slytherin, Reginald hides the satisfaction in his gaze. He knew tonight was going to be a trap, but he needed to bind Voldemort as much as possible. It was not without risk, but it would effectively bind Voldemort if the two of them were to meet on the battlefield.

"It is late," Reginald matter-of-factly said and departed without properly excusing himself for the evening.

MacDuff thoughtfully watches Reginald go as a few of the acolytes finally head over to Charydbis Carrow to ensure her wellbeing. Carrow had been unconscious since Reginald Prince had magically slammed her into a wall. It wasn't out of goodwill as some simply didn't want to clean up a corpse.

Clicking the human teeth together, MacDuff rises and walks over to Praxidlike. "The blood pact will prove little restrain for them," he pensively mused. "They will move to target each other's weaknesses. Prince will undoubtedly use the Ministry of Magic to do his bidding."

"A blood pact leaves much left to be desired," Praxidlike broodingly pursed her mauve lips. "However, the half-breed is not the only one with a glaring weakness, the old Prince has a rather soft underbelly."

"A blood pact does not prevent them from each other's demise merely that it cannot occur by each other's hand," MacDuff wryly chuckled. "Gellert and Dumbledore proved that only too well."

"Undoubtedly," Praxidlike drily murmured. "Yet it cannot be denied that they will be a danger should the two of them remain. The two of them are far more alike than either would admit. However, they are the descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and like their ancestors, they would be more than willing to drag their enemies down into the depths of hell with them. I am certain that they would even be willing to break the blood pact as long as their foe joined them in death."

"Naturally, that is what makes them equally dangerous," MacDuff hummed. "Voldemort holds far too many stakes in the war, we will need to mow them down to increase our stakes."

"Mm, in that case, please allow me to move," Praxidlike cunningly whispered. "I already have a plan in place. It won't take much to fuel the flames."

MacDuff and Praxidlike share a calculating look before each move towards other fellow acolytes. There was much to plan for if they were to destroy Voldemort and Reginald Prince. Voldemort had no weak underbelly, but Reginald Prince did. They would force the two wizards to break the blood pact or be forced to abide it, and neither of which will be without cost.