"Shut up."
Voldemort's low growl silenced the room in an instant.
"The Killing Curse may be used when necessary, the Cruciatus Curse when we need to keep someone in line, and Dark Magic in any fight. How does that actually affect you?"
Under Voldemort's questioning glare, the Death Eaters trembled and dared not answer.
"Cruel, evil, dark. That is how the Wizarding World sees the Death Eaters, and that has to change."
"We are reformers with ideals and ambition, not thugs who run around causing destruction. Remember the difference."
After roaring at them, Voldemort glared coldly around the room once more.
When his gaze swept over Harry, who was standing some distance away, the boy shuddered where he stood.
If Voldemort hadn't looked away at once, Harry thought he might have wet himself.
"All right, Lucius, explain the rules to them. Then tell them what I've been doing all this time. Calm them down. Make sure they aren't afraid I'll find fault with them later, and let them know what my rules are now."
Voldemort left them with those cold words, then looked toward the back of the group. "Wormtail, come with me."
The figure, wearing a black robe that clearly wasn't his and a strange mask he had somehow obtained, trembled as he came up behind Voldemort and followed him toward Dumbledore.
"You've changed a great deal, Voldemort. I think that's a good thing."
As soon as they met, Dumbledore smiled and said this to him.
Voldemort managed a somewhat chilly smile—he hadn't yet recovered from his earlier cold fury—and glanced at the pool in the middle of the platform.
The golden box there had disappeared.
"Did you see the inscription?" Voldemort asked him.
"Inside the box?" Dumbledore asked.
Voldemort nodded.
"I did. But who is R.A.B.?" Dumbledore asked