章節 257: Chapter 256 "The Death Eaters Reunion"

Voldemort extended his unnaturally elongated fingers into a deep pocket, retrieving a wand.

It was his yew wand, adorned with a phoenix tail feather, the loyal companion of his dark endeavors. He recalled the words of the wandmaker, who had described the yew wand as rare and notorious for its prowess in duels and casting curses. Such a wand, he knew, demanded an extraordinary wielder – a titan or a fiend.

In that moment, his aversion to ordinariness ignited into a blazing resolve. He would ensure the world remembered his name!

This wand had been lost during his fateful encounter at Godric's Hollow, where he sought to end the life of the infant Harry Potter. Before his corporeal form was reduced to cinders, he had hidden the wand within the Potter residence by arcane means, evading detection even by the Aurors who investigated.

Ultimately, it was Pettigrew, in his rat form, who aided in its retrieval, earning begrudging acknowledgment.

With a reverent stroke, Voldemort gripped the wand and then aimed it at Pettigrew. Lifting the traitorous servant from the ground, he flung him onto the tombstone where Harry lay bound.

Pettigrew crumpled beside the tombstone, his sobs echoing through the lonely graveyard.

Voldemort's piercing crimson gaze fixed upon Harry, a chilling smile curling his lips.

The robe enveloping Pettigrew's severed arm dripped with blood. "Master..." Pettigrew choked, "Master... you promised..."

"Extend your arms," Voldemort commanded indifferently.

Pettigrew obediently presented his maimed limb, but Voldemort's sneer deepened. "Not this one, Wormtail."

"Master, please...please..." Pettigrew begged.

Voldemort stooped, seizing Pettigrew's left arm. Though unblemished by blood, it was marred by the absence of its lower portion – the sacrifice Pettigrew had made to eliminate Dumbledore, Sirius, and Lupin. A grim testament to his pursuit of dark magic's forbidden arts. Poor Pettigrew, now bereft of hands.

Voldemort disregarded Pettigrew's plight, his attention consumed by more pressing matters.

Unlike his portrayal in the original tale, his arrogance had been eroded during his harrowing exile, alongside his magical prowess.

The previous year, he had encountered a dark wizard of formidable power, shrouded in mystery. Unbeknownst to him, this enigmatic figure hailed from an unfamiliar corner of the wizarding world, his reputation preceding him like a sinister specter.

Reluctantly, he relinquished Nagini, the vessel he had earmarked for his next Horcrux.

Then, when Crouch Jr. infiltrated Hogwarts on his behalf, everything went awry.

Ancient, reclusive families began to emerge, including the Malfoys' second scion, who exhibited astonishing prowess. Their intent was to ensure Harry Potter, an unassuming lad with no lineage or arcane knowledge, would emerge triumphant in the Triwizard Tournament. The Cup's challenge was formidable indeed.

Amidst this turmoil, a cadre of dark wizards he had encountered during his sojourn across Europe approached him, offering aid to surmount this obstacle.

Ever astute, Voldemort discerned that this faction had long been in contact with Pettigrew, tracking him down through covert means.

Curse it all. Had he not needed Pettigrew's assistance, he would have disposed of the traitor long ago. Pettigrew had been dispatched to rendezvous with Merlin.

Fortuitously, it appeared this group harbored no malevolent intentions toward him. Instead, they proposed a plan to procure Harry's blood, which was essential for his resurrection.

Voldemort grasped the principle of rewarding merit, yet his thirst to reclaim his former might overshadowed any potential treachery from this group. Even if a conspiracy lurked beneath their offer, they would have to bide their time until he had fully regained his power.

Nevertheless, it was precisely these considerations that rendered Voldemort more circumspect and accommodating following his successful resurrection than in the original narrative. He recognized that the times had changed—

On this world's stage, he and Dumbledore were no longer the sole players—

Reclusive pure-blood families, the Malfoys who defied tradition by sending forth prodigies, the enigmatic dark wizard organization operating in secrecy, and others emerged.

Behind these factions likely loomed ancient monstrosities capable of challenging his supremacy.

No longer the unassailable Dark Lord capable of brazen arrogance, Voldemort recognized the need for caution and strategic calculation.

Thus, his immediate imperative was to reassemble his forces swiftly.

Voldemort roughly rolled up Pettigrew's sleeves, revealing a bright red tattoo on his skin—a skull emitting a serpent from its mouth: the Dark Mark.

Voldemort placed his long, pallid index finger on Pettigrew's arm.

Harry screamed in agony as the scar on his forehead seared with pain once more.

Pettigrew's cries echoed as if his arms were engulfed in flames. When Voldemort withdrew his finger, Pettigrew's Dark Mark transformed from bright red to pitch black.

A cruel smirk of triumph adorned Voldemort's face as he straightened up, lifting his gaze to survey the darkened cemetery.

"Who would dare return after feeling it?" he murmured, his glowing red eyes fixed on the stars. "And who would be foolish enough to resist?"

Suddenly, the air crackled with the sound of shifting cloaks. From between graves, behind fir trees, and from every shadowy corner, wizards apparated.

Hooded and veiled, they approached one by one, their steps hesitant and cautious, as if disbelief clouded their senses.

Voldemort stood in silence, awaiting their reverence. A Death Eater fell to his knees, inching toward Voldemort to kiss the hem of his black robes.

One by one, the Death Eaters followed suit, bowing before Voldemort, then stepping back to form a silent circle encompassing Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, and Voldemort himself.

Surrounded by Wormtail, who lay on the ground, sobbing and twitching, there remained gaps in the circle as though awaiting others to join. Yet Voldemort no longer seemed to anticipate further arrivals.

He surveyed the hooded faces around him. Though the air lay still, a faint rustling emanated from the circle as if it quivered with tension.

Voldemort seethed with anger—real anger.

He hadn't expected so few to answer his call!

He had counted on the likes of Karkaroff, who would no longer dare to defy him. He had presumed that, under the Black Mark's dread, tracking down defectors would be effortless.

How dare they truly betray him? He had estimated at least thirty would heed his summons, yet he struggled to muster even ten!

"Excellent," he hissed, lips curling in fury. "Excellent!"

"It appears that, during my time of weakness, many harbored treacherous thoughts and dared to abandon our esteemed ranks," he declared, voice dripping with menace. "They need to learn the consequences of such betrayal."

"Avery!"

One of the individuals within the circle suddenly collapsed to the ground, prostrating himself at Voldemort's feet, trembling uncontrollably.

"Master!" he wailed, "Forgive me! Forgive us!"

"I am aware that the Lestranges, Dolohov, Mulciber, Rookwood, and Travers languish in Azkaban. Their loyalty remains steadfast; they would sooner rot in Azkaban than forsake me... When Azkaban is breached, they shall reap the rewards beyond imagination," Voldemort stated icily. "But what of those who failed to heed my call?"

"Master," Avery trod cautiously, "Since the birth of the Malfoy family's prodigious second scion, Lucius has distanced himself from us. The vassal families under his sway, such as the Goyles and Crabbes, have followed suit..."

"Lucius..." Voldemort's voice dripped with frost, "You dare betray me... then-"

"So, where is Nott? Where are the Carrow siblings? And Rowle?"

"Master," another Death Eater, tall and gaunt, rose to address him, "Thorfinn was apprehended by Aurors for illicit activities in Knockturn Alley and dispatched to Azkaban. The Rowle family met a mysterious demise."

"Oh, indeed?" Voldemort's gaze pierced the air. "Yaxley, are you familiar with these matters? Enlighten me."

"Yes, Master. The Rowle family's fate is not an isolated incident," Yaxley reported. "Earlier, the Lestrange family fell victim to a brutal attack orchestrated by a pack of werewolves."

"Werewolves?" Voldemort's pupils contracted slightly. "That's... unexpected."

"Yes, werewolves. The same ones who've maintained an amicable relationship with the Rolle family, with Rowle acting as their intermediary," Yaxley affirmed. "We've thoroughly investigated the matter. It appears Thorfinn mishandled the situation. In hindsight, the entire affair seems suspicious..."