Chapter 520: Death Eaters (Edited)

"How dare you!"

The fake Moody snarled as he heard Fish taunt his master, and was about to attack him, when Voldemort stopped him.

"Barty," Voldemort said lightly, "That's right Fish, there's nothing to be angry about."

Probably because he had regained his power, or because he still wanted to recruit Fish, Voldemort was being unusually generous.

"How merciful you are, my master!"

Fish didn't react, but False Moody knelt in front of Voldemort with a very touched look on his face, even Peter, who had cut his hand, struggled to get up from the ground and knelt next to False Moody.

"Master..." said Peter, choking back a sob, "Merciful master... you promised... promised..."

"Harry, those two look like house elves."

(?≧?≦?)

Fish said with a mischievous grin.

Harry: "Uh-uh-uh..."

From the moment Fish laughed at Voldemort, Harry was afraid that they would be killed by an enraged Dark Lord, but Fish was still as ruthless as ever, irritating Voldemort and then his men, Harry felt so tired....

Good thing Voldemort seemed to be in a good mood about his resurrection, he paid no attention to Fish, but said lazily to Peter at his feet, "Hold out your arm."

"Oh, master... thank you, master..."

He held out his bloody and broken arm, but Voldemort sneered again, "Not this one, Wormtail."

"Master, please...please..."

Voldemort reached down, lifted Peter's left arm and smoothed his sleeve down to his elbow, revealing a bright red tattoo, the pattern was the Death Mark that had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup....

That's what hit Fish's cat head.

"He's back," Voldemort muttered as he ignored Peter's sobs and examined the Dark Mark on his hand, "Everyone will notice... now, we'll see... we'll know..."

He pressed his long, pale forefinger to Peter's arm.

Once again, the scar on Harry's forehead hurt sharply, Peter let out another groan and even the fake Moody made a pained face and reached up to cover his left arm....

It was a move Harry had seen Snape and Karkarov do before.

Voldemort withdrew his fingers from Peter's Dark Mark, which had turned a deep black.

With a look of cruel triumph on his face, he straightened up, threw his head back and scrutinized the dark graveyard.

"After feeling it, how many have the guts to come back?". muttered Voldemort, his glowing red eyes fixed on the stars in the sky, "And how many will be foolish enough not to come?".

"Master, are you still going to spare the traitors?"

The false Moody said discontentedly, "Those lowly infidels. They had the gall to wear masks and fool around at the Quidditch World Cup, but one by one they slipped away when they saw the Dark Mark I shot."

Voldemort said nothing, just looked calmly at the fake Moody with his glowing red snake eyes.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Master, I was too presumptuous!"

The fake Moody fell to his knees, just as the effects of the multi-juice potion had worn off, he transformed from a blind, crippled, scarred old man into a pale, slightly freckled young man with a clump of yellow hair.

Harry recognized the man, having seen him in Dumbledore's pensieve: Barty Crouch Jr. once sent to Azkaban by his own father, Barty Crouch himself.

Voldemort stared at Barty Crouch Jr. for a long moment, watching the sweat pour off his forehead, before withdrawing his gaze and then returning it to Harry with a cruel smile.

"Harry Potter, you're standing on my father's bones."

He hissed softly, having regained his strength, Voldemort's mind was not as calm as it appeared, and began to tell Harry and Fish about his life.

Both Harry and Fish listened in silence, Harry gagged and unable to speak, Fish simply listening to the story.

But Voldemort had only said a few words before he was interrupted by the rustle of moving robes. Between the graves, behind the fir trees, in every shadowy place wizards appeared.

"Nya?"

(??ω??)

Fish looked in the direction of the sound, then shrugged his nose...

He smelled something familiar about him.

"Hello!" Fish greeted them, "Lucius, Avery, Nott, Walton..."

Fish rattled off a long list of names, then cocked his head, confused, "Why are they covering their faces?"

?ω?

The Death Eaters who appeared before Fish and Harry wore hoods and covered their faces.

Those whose names were called had no time to answer Fish, they walked cautiously, trembling slightly.

As soon as they were close enough, they knelt, crawled on hands and knees to Voldemort, kissed the hem of his black robe in turn, then stepped aside, rose and silently formed a circle.

Barty Crouch Jr. after a moment's hesitation, also stood in their midst, but from the look of disgust on his face he didn't really want to be with those "traitors".

Peter, meanwhile, was still covering his broken hand, kneeling in front of Voldemort, sobbing softly.

The Death Eaters surrounded Tom Riddle's grave, Fish, Harry, Voldemort and the sobbing Peter, but with some space between them, as if waiting for others to join them.

But it was clear that Voldemort had no patience to wait any longer, for he looked around at the hooded faces, and despite the lack of wind, a small whisper seemed to pierce the circle, as if it had trembled.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said calmly, "It has been thirteen years... since our last meeting. But you still answer my call as you did yesterday... that is, we are still united under the Dark Mark! Is that so?"

He lifted his grim face, opened both of his ragged nostrils and sniffed.

"I smell guilt," he said, "There is a stench of guilt in the air."

The circle shuddered again, as if everyone wanted to step back, but dared not move.

Voldemort continued, making the Death Eaters shudder and sending shivers down Harry's spine, as Fish grew a little bored.

For what he was telling was not a story, but a sermon by Professor McGonagall.... Apart from Professor Binns' History of Magic, this was the last thing Fish liked to hear.

Voldemort's silver hand to Peter was a bit interesting, but then he moved on to "lecturing" Death Eaters, and, judging by his long speech, Fish was sure he wouldn't be done for a while.

(? ′Д`?)

Fish, who didn't want to listen to Voldemort and couldn't move for the moment, opened his mouth wide and yawned, then cocked his head to one side, lowered his cat ears and closed his eyes.

"Zzzzz..."

(?-ω-?)

With Voldemort's oppressive "sermon", Fish fell peacefully asleep.