Lord Voldemort showed a terrible smile, but his red eyes were emotionless. He took out the eyeball that looked a little shriveled with blood vessels and meridians from the glass cover he was dragging and controlled it to fly in the direction of Grigor. This made the eyeball and blood vessels look like an octopus.
"Bring it up." Lord Voldemort said, "Dear Grigor, show me if this eyeball in your family's collection is real, and if it will kill people after being put on and taken off … If you're lucky enough to ensure that it's real, and then survive later, I'll allow you to provide me with more services in the future …"
Lucius's pale face was expressionless. He realized that although the Dark Lord often lost control, he had regained some caution after the failure of the duel. He did not directly use the artifact that could not be felt at all on himself.
"Idiot, can't you hear the order of the Dark Lord?" Lucius urged. "Master! Let me do it for him! "
Grigor bit his lower lip with trembling teeth, and his eyes were full of tears of extreme fear. He knew that he could not resist, and in fact, he had no other choice. He raised his trembling right hand in order to survive.
Lord Voldemort's ferocious eyes did not leave the wizard in front of him who was paralyzed on the ground like mud. He continued to ask softly, "Lucius, how's the progress on your friend Rudolf's side?"
"Master … Rudolf sent a letter to explain …" Lucius did not dare to neglect, and he carefully worded his words. "Master, because there are multiple spells set in every corridor and every room in the ruins, and these spells are from ancient times and are somewhat different from our modern magic, the spell dispellers are making slow progress …" Lucius noticed Lord Voldemort's frown and quickly said, "But Rudolf doesn't dare to act recklessly in this regard. If he forces his way in and causes the trap to explode, it's not a big deal to kill people, but if it causes a collapse and even causes the destruction of Viktor's heart inside … That's why the progress is slow … But because of this, we think that the thing is really inside …"
"Too slow … Hurry him up … I don't think you and your good friend would want me to personally supervise him …" Just as Voldemort's impatient compromising voice fell, a painful wail was suddenly heard. It dragged on and was incomparably miserable, as though it was answering his words.
Blood flowed out from Grigor's left eye socket. In the shrill scream, his original eyeball slid to the ground and rolled into a pool of blood … Grigor gasped in pain, his hands covered in blood. He trembled as he lifted the glass cover in front of him, gently pinched the withered eye, and pressed it against the socket. The human eye squeezed directly into his right eye socket and was soaked in blood. It instantly became plump and rolled crazily in his eye socket.
Lord Voldemort's twisted mouth twitched, and he mocked, "Lucius. It seems that he is more efficient than Rudolphus."
When the withered eye stopped moving, the skin around Grigor's eye socket cracked like cracked earth, and his entire eye socket turned black. The eyeball, which was still a little withered, seemed to be connected by thousands of red blood vessels, like a spider web or broken glass, and stuck to the eye socket abruptly.
Grigor gasped in pain. He couldn't even close his new eye at all. He collapsed on the floor, trembling, and his sweat and blood mixed together. Until the pupil of the Eye of Viktor suddenly fixed on Lord Voldemort, who was observing in front of him.
Without warning, Grigor's drooping fingers moved, and a flame was released by him without a staff, blocking everyone's sight. Then, Grigor's widened new eye suddenly released a continuous ray from behind the flame. This red ray looked like the blood vessels on the stem of the eye, and it rushed toward Lord Voldemort.
Lord Voldemort raised his eyebrows and disappeared in an instant. But although the ray from the Eye of Viktor was powerful and swift, it hit a Death Eater behind Lord Voldemort. The Death Eater was instantly wrapped in layers of red silk and turned into a red mummy. Then, with a bang, the mummy shattered as if all the vitality had been sucked away by these red silk threads, scattering into gray dregs on the ground.
Under the effect of the Eye of Viktor, Grigor, who was originally timid and cowardly, sat up straight and continued to shoot the ray at the Death Eaters in front of him like a madman.
When the Death Eaters began to make a fuss and flee in all directions, Lord Voldemort, who had reappeared, had appeared behind Grigor, who was still in a state of insanity. His leather boots stepped heavily on the ground, and he bent down to grab the neck of the heir of the Montes family with his intact left hand that looked like a big pale spider. Then, he used the Hand of Viktor to dig directly into Grigor's eyeball. His Hand of Viktor was hit by the ray, but nothing happened at all.
Lord Voldemort pulled it out while watching Grigor's reaction. "It is said that the power of the Eye of Viktor will change with the new owner, but one thing is certain: the unfortunate person who owns it will never have a good thing happen. It is destined to betray its owner at an important moment, and when he needs its power the most, it will turn its back on him. "
And as if realizing that it was about to be taken off, the Eye of Viktor in the dry eye socket rotated wildly and irregularly. Grigor's hair quickly turned gray, and his skin aged gray as if it had lost all its moisture. Black spots appeared on his skin … Grigor seemed to have lost all his vitality in an instant, and the pupil of his intact eye gradually became dilated.
Lord Voldemort's red eyes became brighter, and the two slits like a cat's eyes were aimed at the Eye of Viktor. After it absorbed all the vitality, with a pop, when Lord Voldemort raised his hand again, the eyeball that had left the eye socket was in his withered fingers. Grigor could no longer be seen as a young man. He was like a skeleton wrapped in dry skin, having lost his life long ago.
"Dear Grigor, it seems that you are not blessed by luck … but I am about to have all three parts of this set of artifacts! This will suppress the curse and bring me more power! " Lord Voldemort looked at the body of the heir of the House of Montes, opened his mouth, and muttered to the corpse in a somewhat nervous manner. He began to reach his finger towards his own left eye socket …
In the Nurmengard Wizard Prison in Bavaria, Germany, near Austria, a flame appeared out of thin air in a corridor at the top of the cold, dark, and far away from human habitation. The tower was enchanted with a spell to prevent illusions.
Footsteps were heard in the corridor on the top floor of the prison. On the walls on both sides of the corridor, magic lamps emitting a faint green light shone on the golden stars dotted on the purple magic robe of the visitor, giving off a little bit of light. When the visitor approached the cell in the middle of the corridor, he stopped, tidied the pointed wizard hat on his head, which was a little crooked, and continued to move forward. He saw the target of this trip.
The first Dark Lord, Gellar Grindelwald, was standing straight by the bars of the cell. Although he was a little fat, he was wearing a formal suit and smiled at the visitor as if he had been waiting for a long time. At this time, the pupil of his prophetic eye was still active. There were still traces of him sitting on the sofa in the cell, a half-empty bucket of popcorn on the small tea table next to him, and the floating city of Hogwarts was still playing on the TV in the cell.
Dumbledore's magic robe swayed like waves, and the phoenix Fawkes on his shoulder burst into a burst of flame. When the flame disappeared, the light wizard had already appeared in the cell. His gaze met Grindelwald's eyes, which had already returned to normal. The male phoenix on his shoulder had already flown to the pile of snacks and began to peck at the popcorn as if it was familiar with this task.
"I think I know this poor little boy in front of me … He was chased away by the Hogwarts, misunderstood by the people he had helped … No one understood him, he was not treated well, but he is very brave … very brave." Grindelwald comforted Dumbledore with his unique elegant tone, like a parent trying to persuade a child to get up after falling down. He walked step by step towards Dumbledore, so close that his face was almost touching. Dumbledore could feel the sweet caramel smell of his breath.
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