"Voldemort is very tolerant." The deep voice echoed in the cemetery. "He will tolerate the inevitable stupidity and cowardice of his men, such as the Death Eaters who are rushing over now, they "forgot" my existence for a short time, but I don't care, because after Voldemort regained his power , They will rush over again soon, more loyal than ever."
"But I can accept being stupid, but I can't accept being stupid again and again, Peter, this is your third mistake, tell me, what should I do?"
The air was suddenly filled with the puffing of cloaks. Between the graves, behind the fir trees, in every shadowy place wizards apparated. They were all hooded and covered their faces. They walked over one by one... They walked slowly and carefully, as if they couldn't believe their eyes. Voldemort stood silently waiting. A Death Eater fell to his knees, crawled up to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Master... Master..." he whispered.
The same was true of the Death Eaters behind him, each kneeling and crawling up to Voldemort, kissing his robes, then stepping aside, standing up and forming a silent circle.
"The idiot's treatment may have to be left to the end. Now let me see the members of my real family." Voldemort raised his head, raised the wand in his hand and pointed it to one side, smashing old Riddle's tombstone completely , and with a loud bang, it collapsed.
Voldemort shook his head slowly, and raised his hand, his scarlet eyes didn't know whether he was staring at the wand or his slender fingers.
At this time, there are still some gaps in the whole circle, as if waiting for other people to join. Voldemort, however, no longer seemed to expect anyone to come. He looked around at the hooded faces. Although there was no wind, there seemed to be a slight rustling in the circle, as if the circle trembled.
Voldemort sighed, the cold voice drifted far away, and the trembling of the circle became even more serious.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort calmly. "Thirteen years...it has been thirteen years since we last met. And yet you answer my call just as you did yesterday... That is to say, we are still united in the Black Under the magic mark! Is it?"
He raised his ferocious face, opened two slit-like nostrils and sniffed.
"I smell guilt," he said. "There's a stink of guilt in the air."
The circle trembled again, it seemed that everyone wanted to step back, but they didn't dare to move.
"I see you, in good health, with magic as ever—so swiftly arrived!—and I ask myself...why have these wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they have sworn to serve forever?"
No one spoke, no one dared to move. Only Wormtail fell to the ground, sobbing with his bleeding arm.
"I answer myself," said Voldemort softly, "that they must have believed me, thought I was finished. They slipped back among my enemies and said they were innocent, ignorant, bewitched..."
"I asked myself again, but why do they believe that I will not make a comeback? Don't they know that I have taken measures to prevent death a long time ago? Didn't they witness me countless times when I was stronger than any wizard? Do you want to prove that your potential is boundless?"
"I answered myself that perhaps they believed there was a greater power capable of defeating Voldemort... perhaps they had now pledged their allegiance to someone else... perhaps the leader of the Lower Ribas, the protector of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore profitable?"
Hearing Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle became agitated, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored it.
"This disappoints me... I admit I'm disappointed..."
Suddenly one of the circle fell to the ground, crouching at Voldemort's feet, shaking from head to toe.
"Master!" he screamed, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us!"
Voldemort sneered and raised his wand.
"Cruciate!"
The Death Eater on the ground writhed and screamed in pain. Harry was sure the sound would carry through the surrounding houses... call the police, he thought desperately... whoever it was... anyway...
Voldemort raised his wand. The executed Death Eater lay flat on the ground, panting heavily.
"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly, "get up. You beg me to forgive? I will not forgive. I will not forget. Thirteen long years... I want you to pay off your debts for thirteen years, and then will forgive you.
"Will you ever know how to forgive others, Tom?" An old voice came from behind a yew tree.
Then the people around Voldemort's circle seemed to stagger at the same time, becoming confused, facing Voldemort's several Death Eaters, wanting to twist their necks back stiffly, to see what happened What, but he was worried about the man in front of him and didn't dare to act rashly.
"Dumbledore!" After a brief silence, it was still Voldemort who took a breath and broke the silence.
The scarlet pupils instantly dilated with astonishment.
"traitor?"
His heart was trembling, and he thought of this word almost immediately.
Their plan was very secretive, and there were two reasons for the exposure. Someone showed his feet, or a traitor revealed information to him.
Who would have believed that Dumbledore hadn't been a good judge of him during the Triwizard Tournament, and then strolled to this place with nothing to do, and then happened to meet the revived Voldemort
"Little Crouch? Malfoy? Or..." Voldemort fell silent after calling out Dumbledore's name, frantically thinking about all the possibilities
Then subconsciously shot a green light towards the old man not far away.
Dumbledore was holding the wand in his hand at this time, and strode towards Voldemort in a leisurely stroll. The half-moon-shaped lenses reflected a faint light, making it difficult to see the emotions in the old man's eyes.
The old man's reaction was extremely quick. Seeing the death curse attacking him impartially, the old man's figure flashed away like a gust of wind, and disappeared in place. It exploded, and a series of sharp explosion-like sounds erupted.
At this moment, Voldemort restrained himself, so as not to appear so panicked.
I can't understand my own state.
His strength had waned, and the awkward feedback of the wand and the way he felt it when he swung it were enough to make him realize that his current strength was no match for the old man in front of him.
What is the reason that he has not fully recovered his strength after his resurrection? In his prediction, his strength after this resurrection is obviously better than before. Why? Or is it because of the lack of that boy's blood