Chapter 886: Voldemort Calls a Meeting
Chapter 886: Voldemort Calls a Meeting
Two men suddenly appeared out of thin air, quickly making their way through a narrow alleyway.
"This will be...ah...the greatest honor of your life." The taller of the two men said.
"I don't feel that way." Without turning his head, Rabastan said, "But Mr. Crouch, could you please stop sticking out your tongue? It's disgusting."
"Hmph!"
A cold glint flashed in Barty Crouch Jr.'s eyes as he said, "I'll consider it...if you manage to leave here alive today."
To the left of the alley was a thicket of thorns, and to the right was a neatly trimmed hedge. At the end of the alley, a turn revealed an impressive pair of wrought iron gates.
Without hesitation, the two men walked right through the gates as if they were passing through Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station.
"Quite a conspicuous mansion." Rabastan remarked, eyeing the peacocks by the pond. "This must be the Malfoy residence. Everyone knows he's a Death Eater, aren't you afraid the Aurors will come after you?"
"Why should we fear the Aurors?" Barty Jr. said, sticking out his tongue again. "Also, do you really think this is Lucius Malfoy's home?"
Barty Jr. let out a cold laugh and strode towards the mansion's front door, with Rabastan closely behind him.
It seemed as if they had just passed through another invisible door.
The original entrance hall soon disappeared as the light distorted, replaced by an elaborate room.
The expensive marble floor shone, and the tapestries on the walls were embroidered with intricate patterns. Upon closer inspection, one would find that the threads used were made from the tails of unicorns, each one incredibly valuable.
This must still be the Malfoy manor; only they would indulge in such extravagant decor.
But now was not the time for such thoughts.
As the two men entered the room, they found it already filled with people seated at an ornate long table.
The table was not completely full, and there were still some empty seats, but as they entered, two Dementors stood guard at the door.
"Everyone is here." A clear voice rang out from the head of the table, "Welcome, my loyal servant, Barty. You have eliminated an annoying pest, and this is the best news I've heard in a long time."
In the flickering candlelight, the man's face emerged from the shadows—hairless, snake-like, with slender nostrils and a pair of gleaming red eyes, their pupils vertical.
Whether it was due to the dim light or something else, half of his face was pale, while the other half was dark.
"The honor is mine, Master." Barty Jr. knelt on the ground, his entire face twisted with excitement.
"It is indeed an honor to simply reap the rewards."
A strange, high-pitched voice cut through the air, immediately drawing everyone's attention.
"Welcome as well, our new friend...a warrior who has slain a legendary Auror." Voldemort's red eyes seemed to flash.
"Welcome, join us. We've been expecting you." He gestured to an empty seat on the right side of the long table.
"It's an honor." Rabastan knelt on one knee and placed his right hand over his heart.
Barty Jr. stared at him, taken aback.
What was going on?
During their journey, Rabastan had been haughty and dismissive, acting as if no one was worth his time. Barty Jr. had even thought that Rabastan would be punished by the Dark Lord for his lack of respect.
But now, what was this?
He knelt down so smoothly, without a hint of hesitation. If one didn't know better, they would think he was the veteran Death Eater.
Barty Jr. was left speechless, but Rabastan didn't even spare him a glance as he took the seat indicated by Voldemort.
"Nice to meet you." A hand was extended from the side.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Morris O'Connor. We'll be colleagues from now on."
"Papyrus Rabastan."
The two shook hands briefly and quickly, appearing somewhat perfunctory, but compared to the indifferent people around them, this was already a warm welcome.
"He's probably trying to be friendly," Rabastan thought to himself as he scanned the room, committing each person's face to memory.
There were factions within the Death Eaters, and those who had followed Voldemort since the early days naturally looked down on newcomers.
As far as he knew, O'Connor was like him, a new addition to the Death Eaters, and was likely trying to form an alliance.
"Everyone is here," Voldemort said.
"Apologies, Dark Lord." Rabastan raised his hand, "But did you just say everyone was here?"
He looked around and noticed several empty seats at the table.
"Yes." Voldemort was unusually patient, not showing any signs of annoyance at the interruption.
"Over here..." He pointed to the nearest empty seat on his left, "...this seat was once occupied by one of my most loyal servants. Unfortunately, he perished in battle two months ago."
"And Crabbe...Rabastan..." He indicated a few more distant empty seats, "...they all fell to the same person. Would you like to know who?"
"No." Rabastan blurted out, then quickly added, "But regardless of who it is, I am willing to eliminate this enemy of yours, my Lord, to prove my loyalty."
Voldemort's scarlet eyes fixed on him, and after a long while, he let out a soft laugh, "I have already seen your loyalty in slaying that renowned Auror."
His gaze swept across the room, "So many failed to accomplish what you did, well done.
"I've been thinking, perhaps I've been too merciful, which is why their efficiency is so...lackluster!"
Wherever Voldemort's eyes landed, everyone instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze.
Uncharacteristically, Voldemort didn't continue the previous topic.
"What is it? Do you have any interesting news to share?"
"Master, Bones went to Hogwarts to meet with Dumbledore. They agreed to disband the Order of the Phoenix and have their members join the Aurors," one of the Death Eaters reported, drawing curious glances from the others.
"What a delightful surprise, Severus," Voldemort said with interest, his eyes fixed on Snape. "They met this morning, and you already have the information. Well done."
"It was my duty, Master," Snape replied, his expression carefully controlled.
"This presents us with an opportunity," another Death Eater interjected eagerly. "Perhaps we can use our connections within the Ministry to get rid of those pesky individuals once and for all."
"And when we make our move, we won't have to worry about anyone interfering thanks to Dumbledore's foolish decision to disband the Order," the Death Eater continued excitedly, oblivious to the fact that those around him were subtly shifting their chairs to distance themselves.
"You make a valid point," Voldemort said, his face darkening. "But am I to understand that if the members of the Order of the Phoenix don't join the Aurors, you would be powerless to act?"
The Death Eater who had been speaking froze, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to form a response. While what he said was true, saying it out loud was as good as admitting his incompetence.
The Death Eaters feared nothing more than being perceived as useless by Voldemort... No wonder the others were suddenly keeping their distance. He was likely to draw the Dark Lord's wrath, and they didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.
As the sound of shuffling feet and murmurs filled the room, the Death Eater felt his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say something to explain himself, but someone else beat him to it.
"Of course not, Lord Voldemort," said Lestrange. "Are those Phoenix Society members difficult to kill? I think it would be quite simple."
His words were brazen, almost like a slap in the face to everyone present, but surprisingly, no one objected.
After all, he had just killed Alastor Moody, one of the key members of the Order of the Phoenix, and his accomplishments spoke for themselves.
"Yes, they're just a bunch of insects," agreed Avery, sitting next to Lestrange. "If I came across them, they wouldn't stand a chance."
The others looked on with interest.
While Avery didn't have any notable achievements, his mission completion rate was suspiciously high. In less than two years as a Death Eater, he had risen to the same rank as Barty Crouch Jr. and the others.
Encouraged by Lestrange and Avery's bold statements, the other Death Eaters began to voice their opinions as well.
Regardless of whether they could actually deliver on their boasts, they knew they had to at least show the right attitude.
A hum filled the room as the Death Eater who had spoken out of turn stood there, his limbs turning cold and his body trembling.
The others continued to edge away from him.
If things went as expected, this man was as good as dead. Voldemort had suffered a major setback at the hands of Harry Potter in the Horcrux cave, and he would undoubtedly be looking for someone to take his anger out on.
Here was the perfect scapegoat.
Instead of finding support, the man faced only scorn and derision.
It wasn't difficult to understand...
Someone had to bear the brunt of Voldemort's fury, and if it wasn't going to be him, it could very well be one of them.
They were relieved to see someone else offer themselves up, eager to put distance between themselves and the impending storm. They didn't want to be splattered with blood when Voldemort's pets fed.
However, much to everyone's surprise, Voldemort let the man off the hook.
"I don't want to hear any more of this," Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissively. "Take your seat."
This...
The surrounding Death Eaters were bewildered.
The Voldemort before them seemed somewhat different from the one they knew.
His earlier show of concern and now his unexpected leniency... If it weren't for the Dark Mark on their arms throbbing faintly, they might have thought this Voldemort was an imposter.
His behavior was so bizarre that everyone fell silent, unsure of what to make of it.
"Continue," Voldemort said, narrowing his eyes. "Are there any other reports or news to share?"
"Feel free to speak up. We have plenty of time today," he added.
This...
The Death Eaters exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of Voldemort's unusual behavior. No one dared to be the first to speak up.
It wasn't until Voldemort showed signs of impatience that Avery finally spoke. "If we're reporting on our tasks... I've recruited a group of pure-blood wizards in Yorkshire.
"They're not well-known, but they despise Muggles and have been operating in the gray areas of magic for generations. They're skilled in creating cursed and Dark magical artifacts."
"Excellent," Voldemort said, nodding in approval.
Being pure-blood and holding disdain for Muggles already met the criteria for becoming a Death Eater, not to mention their expertise in creating Dark artifacts.
It was impressive that Avery had managed to find such talented recruits, even if it didn't quite measure up to Barty Crouch Jr.'s task of recruiting over a hundred homeless witches and wizards. It was still a pleasant surprise.
More importantly, they hadn't made any demands in return.
That was a relief.
"In that case, I'll share my progress as well," said Lestrange, looking around. "The secret passage from the port to Devon is ready. If needed, we can give the Ministry a nasty surprise at any time.
"Not bad." Voldemort continued to nod, seemingly pleased.
This was yet another piece of good news.
Now that they were effectively operating out in the open, it wouldn't take long for the Aurors to catch on to their activities.
These hundred or so homeless witches and wizards could be used to catch the Ministry off-guard; they could be a not-so-secret weapon.
Voldemort tapped his fingers on the table, his expression unchanged, revealing no hint of emotion.
"Continue." He said calmly, "One by one, let's start with you, Gore."
A burly Death Eater lifted his head, stammering, "I...I cast a spell on a dog to make it bite Muggles...does that count?"
"Next time, you should just kill the Muggle directly." Voldemort said coldly, "Continue."
Seeing that Gore didn't receive any punishment for his underwhelming answer, the others relaxed and began to report on their work as well.
If they couldn't find anything appropriate to report, they would make something up.
Today, Voldemort was unusually generous, surprisingly tolerant, and even refrained from scolding them, as if he were truly listening to his subordinates' reports.
Time ticked by.
One hour, two hours...
Creak.
Lestrange seemed to have been sitting for too long, and he couldn't help but shift in his seat.
Voldemort's gaze immediately snapped to him, fixing on his face, but only for a moment before moving away.
Beside them, Avery raised an eyebrow.
It was unclear if it was his imagination, but he thought he had just seen his colleague's throat move slightly.
Avery, as if he had discovered something intriguing, curled his lips into a slight smile, but it quickly faded.
...
At this point, everyone had finished speaking, and they looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.
Usually, such meetings would have ended by now, but today's Voldemort seemed unusually patient and showed no signs of concluding the gathering.
They didn't dare to ask or say anything, so they just remained seated.
"Continue, I enjoy hearing your stories." Voldemort spoke up again.
Left with no choice, everyone continued to rack their brains for more reports.
Several more hours passed, and everyone's mouths were dry.
"Very good." Voldemort suddenly stood up and, to everyone's confusion, quickly walked out of the room, taking the Dementors guarding the door with him.
What did this mean?
Everyone was perplexed, but based on the current situation, it seemed like the meeting was...over?
It must be. With the Dark Lord gone, there was no reason for them to linger.
So, one by one, the Death Eaters began to leave.
Avery stood up and patted Lestrange on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
"It's rare to see a new face, and you're not useless either. How about we grab a drink?"
His words immediately drew everyone's anger, and the Death Eaters who hadn't left yet glared at him.
"What? Don't you agree that they're useless?" Avery said provocatively, spreading his hands.
"Go ahead and gloat." A Death Eater replied coldly, "The Dark Lord knows who his most loyal servants are. One day, I'll make you taste the Cruciatus Curse."
"I look forward to it, Garpson." Avery said nonchalantly, "Also, I think my Cruciatus Curse is pretty good too. Would you like to give it a try?"
"Hmph, just you wait!"
The other Death Eater stormed off.
"Hey, friend." Avery turned to Lestrange again, "Seriously, how about that drink? I love seeing the look on the Bouncers' faces when they recognize me at the Broken Kettle."
Lestrange didn't answer him, merely shaking his head.
"We're going to be colleagues on the same boat from now on, and you won't even talk to me?" Avery's smile became more pronounced, "You're really not sociable, are you?"
"Hmph."
Lestrange seemed to find him annoying, furrowing his brows and coldly huffing.
Without waiting for Barty Crouch Jr., who had accompanied him, Lestrange left the room, quickly walked through the courtyard, and disappeared behind the wrought iron gates.
Before long, the room was empty except for Avery.
He didn't hurry to leave but instead walked to where Lestrange had been sitting, deep in thought as he ran his hand over the chair Lestrange had occupied, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
This was very strange, too strange.
Based on Lestrange's initial behavior, he didn't seem like a reticent person, and he had been quite willing to mock the other Death Eaters.
But his behavior had changed abruptly, as if he had suddenly become introverted.
"How interesting." Avery mused as he stroked the finely crafted chair.
Why did he suddenly stop talking? Was it because he didn't want to...or was he hiding something?
If so, what was he trying to hide?
Could it be the taste in his mouth? If he had eaten something with a strong flavor or drunk a potion, it would be easy for others to detect it when he spoke.
But that explanation seemed far-fetched, as no one had eaten or drunk anything during the meeting.
After all, Voldemort was there, and as time passed, his expression grew increasingly gloomy. Under his intense stare, no one dared to do anything unnecessary. Even if their mouths were dry from reporting, they could only endure it.
Unless...he could consume something without opening his mouth.
That was a possibility.
Apart from taste, there was something else even more obvious that would be revealed by opening one's mouth.
Avery walked up to a gilded full-length mirror and murmured, "Am I overthinking this? Maybe he just doesn't like talking..."
As he spoke, his two rows of teeth were faintly visible in the dim light.
...
(End of Chapter)
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