Voldemort’s Generals: Antinous Lestrange - The Visionary.
He is the one who smells the opportunity; smells blood and war, a cold scent on the wind. Honour from blood and where blood flows, the Lestranges follow. He whispers in their ears, wealth, power, honor, knowledge.
Think about it, he says, nobody will ever know, but they will follow and we will lead. This is in our blood, this is our moment, our chance for power.
They are hesitant at first, uncertain that their world will accept the story. He may have power, he may have talent, but he is a Nobody from Nowhere in Particular. An ordinary boy with a name none have ever heard of.
Does the truth matter? Does it matter if they believe the image, if they believe the name?
They dither, they cavil, unwilling to prostrate themselves at the feet of a mudblood and kiss the hems of his robes. We are better than this. We are sons of noble and ancient houses, we do not kiss the feet of scum.
He sighs and tells them. They will bow because they must, because they must impress this young man who so longs to have recognition from their exclusive little world. They will bow, they will kiss, they will call him by his fanciful names, they will indulge his every whim and fancy and let him think it was him who made those choices all along - let them think it.
He paints them a world, a sublime future in which those who understand power wield it. A place for each of them at the helm of this world, carefully guiding it into a glorious new era where rights are wronged and the streets no longer are lined by those who have filth in their veins instead of blood. A pure world, everyone purified by power and blood, beautiful, perfect. Wrongs will be righted and injustices will be punished and magic, once again, will rule supreme - all else will bow down and fear as they have feared.
He calls them, one by one -
Are you not a Rosier, or have you forgotten?
A world where our veins have been purified by fire, Mulciber.
The chance to string them all along, Avery.
Imagine, Nott, a world with no limits.
He knows when they have fallen. The slight shift in the light of their eyes betray them the moment they eat of the fruit he holds out to them.
(They can know about the war and the blood later.)