That evening had been spent consulting with key members of the Knights of Walpurgis, organising his senior Death Eaters, and working on future plans to influence the Ministry from within. When Lord Voldemort had met with each of his faithful followers, he was pleased to be addressed with such respect and adoration from them. The night was going quite well, all in all.
Until he felt the pull of dark magic from somewhere all too close to him. His eyes had narrowed, his followers had stilled, and the room had grown cold. Without so much as an explanation, he turned from his followers and Disapparated with a loud crack.
Voldemort had known instinctively where the pull of Apparition would take him; he felt it like he felt the blood coursing through his veins, or Nagini wrapped ever so tightly around his torso. It was a comforting feeling, knowing where to go and what to do. The feel of the dark magic that pulled him to this familiar place surrounded him with the deafening crack that echoed in the room.
It didn't take long for his eyes to narrow upon the target of this dark magic. He walked slowly, purposefully, circling the room like a vulture eying its next meal. Hissing out a short command to Nagini, he watched as her lithe body wound through the blood, coating her underside and turning back toward her Master with an appreciative hiss.
"Bellatrix," he drew out long and sensually, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, "what have we here? A show of strength, of magic, against your Master's orders...?" It was a dangerous question that only a fool would answer to.