Voldemort’s cold voice echoed in the clearing, and Evan and Harry listened in silence, their bodies taut.
The scar on Harry’s head kept hurting, as if to tear him apart, and he gritted his teeth to protect Evan behind him.
He thought Evan was Gabrielle getting caught in this ss because of him.
Harry was determined to take Gabrielle back alive, no matter what happened…
Voldemort continued to pace up and down, seeming to be in a good mood, rembering his past.
“My father abandoned us. My mother died giving birth to , leaving to be raised in a Muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him…” said Voldemort. “I revenged myself upon him later, that fool who gave his na… Tom Riddle…”
Speaking of the na, there was a hint of chill and aversion in his tone.
“This is a na I am ashad of, it belongs to that man!” said Voldemort, his voice softened and the cruel smile on his face beca more obvious. “But it will co to an end. This disgrace of a father who left was destroyed by my own hands. Ha ha… Harry Potter, you are honored, listen to , reliving family history… Ah, I am growing quite sentintal… but look, Harry! My true family returns!”
His voice had just fallen, and the air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks.
In the weeds, behind every dead tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward… slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes.
Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.
With a plop, one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
“Master… Master …” he murmured.
The Death Eaters behind him did the sa; each approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Voldemort, Evan, Harry and the man moaning and gasping on the ground.
Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people.
Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.
“Welco, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years … thirteen years since last we t. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?“
He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.
“What sll is this? I sll guilt,” he said. “There is a stench of guilt upon the air.”
A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each mber of it longed, but did not dare, to step back from him.
“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact… such prompt appearances! … And I ask myself… why did this band of wizards never co to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?! “
No one spoke, no one dared to move.
“And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, pacing slowly around the inside of the circle. “They must have believed broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchnt…”
“And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the imnsity of my power in the tis when I was mightier than any wizard living?” His voice was long, and he looked extraordinarily gloomy.
“And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… perhaps they now pay allegiance to another… perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?”
At the ntion of Dumbledore’s na, the mbers of the circle stirred, and so muttered and shook their heads.
Voldemort ignored them, and his expression beca colder and colder.
“It is a disappointnt to … I confess myself disappointed…”
One of the n suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort’s feet.
“Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive ! Forgive us all!”
Voldemort sneered and raised his wand.
“Crucio!”
The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked; the voice ca from the soul.
Voldemort’s power was stronger than that of any Dark wizard. His evil thoughts made the Cruciatus Curse extraordinarily cruel and extrely unbearable.
Evan clenched his wand. It wasn’t ti yet for the damn Portkey.
More than ten minutes later, Voldemort finally raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.
“Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You ask for forgiveness?! I tell you, I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years… I want thirteen years’ repaynt before I forgive you.”
Voldemort looked around the Death Eaters, as though looking for the next target.
“I think you must be wondering how I ca back,” he said softly. “I did get help from a few vampires. Although they were not obedient, they still helped . And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…”
He raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand’s wake. Montarily shapeless, it writhed and then ford itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon the man’s bleeding wrist.
It was now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove.
The man tried to flex the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.
“My Lord,” he whispered. “Thank you, rciful Master!”
He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes.
“Lord Voldemort rewards those who are loyal to him. You deserve it, Durand!” said Voldemort. “You are welco to be a Death Eater. According to the agreent, I will help you get back what should belong to you.”
Watching the vampire join the circle trembling, Evan recorded what he looked like.
He had replaced Peter Pettigrew for Voldemort and got the cursed arm.
It was true that his performance was much better than Peter’s.
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