Voldemort turned his gaze back to the crowd, his voice growing distant, as though rising from the depths of memory.
"I asked myself, again and again, through countless agonising nights..." He paused, letting the question weigh heavily on every Death Eater's heart. "Why... did my loyal servants never come to the aid of the master to whom they had sworn eternal allegiance?"
No one spoke. Only Wormtail lay on the ground, cradling his bleeding arm and sobbing softly.
"I told myself," Voldemort continued in a whisper that nevertheless carried clearly to everyone, "they must have believed Voldemort was finished. That he was completely done for. So they hurried back among my enemies, grovelling and claiming their innocence, insisting that they had been under the Imperius Curse..."
He couldn't help but shake his head.
"Then I asked myself, why did they not believe I would rise again? Did they not know that I had long since mastered the power to defy death? Had they not witnessed with their own eyes that I was more powerful than any wizard, that I had proven the extent of my magic countless times?"
"I told myself that perhaps they believed there was some greater power capable of defeating the all-powerful Voldemort..."
The figures in the circle began to stir uneasily. Some, unable to endure the pressure any longer, collapsed to their knees and muttered incoherent pleas for forgiveness.
Voldemort ignored them.
"Thirteen years. Many of you forgot fear, forgot loyalty, forgot who you were. That disappoints me..."
He slowly shook his head, a cold, mocking smile in his voice.
"I admit, I am disappointed..."
"Master, I have not disappointed you..."
Wormtail suddenly lifted his tear-streaked face, groaning softly as he tried to seize what little chance remained.
"I have always... been searching for you. Only I... Master... please, for the sake of my loyalty..."
Voldemort finally lowered his head and looked down at Wormtail lying at his feet, his eyes filled with undisguised mockery.
"Wormtail," he said coldly, "you returned to me not out of loyalty, but because you were afraid of your 'dear' old friends, weren't you? Afraid of Black... and Lupin?"
"Ah! No! Master! I am loyal... Of course I am loyal..."
Wormtail stammered desperately in his defence.
"It was precisely because of my loyalty to you that I... I returned to your side..."
"Lies."
Voldemort watched Wormtail sobbing on the ground and said indifferently, "But although you are a despicable traitor, you did help me regain my physical form. The Dark Lord does not mistreat those who have helped him, no matter how insignificant the help or how base the motive..."
He raised his yew wand and moved it elegantly through the air, the tip tracing smooth, intricate patterns.
A hand-shaped glow with a mercury-like sheen took form, its knuckles clearly defined and even faint lines visible across its palm.
It floated gently downward and settled precisely over Wormtail's still-bleeding wrist.
Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly.
He jerked his head up and stared in disbelief at his newly restored limb.
The silver hand joined perfectly with his severed wrist. Its surface was smooth, cold, and metallic, as though he had been born wearing an exquisitely crafted metal glove made specifically for him.
Trembling, he tried bending the gleaming fingers. The movements were stiff at first, but quickly became smoother.
He reached down and picked up a dry twig from the ground. The silver fingers closed gently around it.
Crack.
The twig instantly crumbled into dust, sifting through his fingers.
Wild joy erupted across Wormtail's face.
"My Master..."
His voice choked with gratitude.
"Master... it's perfect... so powerful... thank you... thank you for your gift!"
He crawled forward and once again kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.
"I hope this hand will always remind you..." Voldemort said with a faint smile, "not to let your loyalty waver so easily, Wormtail."
"Of course, my Master! Never! I swear!"
Wormtail hastily promised.
Then he suddenly looked up, a strange gleam appearing in his eyes as he tentatively added, "If... if Master could be merciful and restore the magic that was drained from me..."
"Ah, I almost forgot," Voldemort said with a light chuckle, as though the matter had only just occurred to him.
He raised his wand and pointed it at Wormtail once more.
An uncontrollable smile immediately spread across Wormtail's face as he prepared to receive another reward.
"Great Master, you truly are... you truly are omnipotent."
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light erupted.
Wormtail collapsed stiffly to the ground.
The entire circle of Death Eaters shuddered as one, as though the green light had struck directly into their own hearts.
Voldemort put away his wand without expression, a deep look of disgust flashing through his eyes.
Ignoring Wormtail's corpse, he raised his head. His crimson gaze slowly swept across the circle of black-robed Death Eaters like a searchlight.
His eyes lingered on the gaps between them, identifying the places where certain people should have been standing, and his expression gradually darkened.
He stepped towards one particularly noticeable empty space.
"Lestrange and her husband should be standing here," he said coldly. "They were imprisoned in Azkaban. They were loyal. They chose Azkaban rather than betray me..."
He moved on to the next empty place, his voice growing colder.
"Avery should have been here..."
"Macnair should be here..."
"Selwyn should be here..."
"And here..."
He called out the names of the absent Death Eaters one by one. With each name, the muscles in his pale face tightened further, and the air around him seemed to grow heavier.
His sinister anger gathered around him, almost forming a tangible black mist.
"So many Death Eaters failed to come," he said, his expression becoming increasingly grim. "Even Crabbe and Goyle... those two should have come running like loyal hounds, yet neither of them appeared..."
His gaze, cold as a chain, locked onto a Death Eater in the front row wearing an exquisite silver mask.
The man stood perfectly straight. Even beneath Voldemort's terrifying stare, he did not visibly tremble like the others.
"Lucius, my cunning friend..."
Voldemort called softly, enunciating each word as he asked, "Can you tell me why so many of my once 'trusted' companions chose to be absent from tonight's gathering?"
Every eye turned towards the silver mask.
In the suffocating silence, the man Voldemort had called Lucius did not throw himself to the ground and desperately defend himself as everyone expected.
Instead, he did something that made all the Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself, pause.
He raised a hand, calmly unfastened the clasp securing the mask, and slowly removed the silver mask concealing his face.
Beneath it was a calm expression.
His gaze met Voldemort's eyes, which burned with anger and surprise, and his steady voice rang clearly through the silent graveyard.
"Because they couldn't come."
He continued, "Some of them I killed. Some I stripped of their magic. As for the rest... they realised the error of their ways and voluntarily left your ridiculous Death Eater ranks."
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