Selwyn stood frozen in terror, incapable of doing anything but shaking.
Two unidentified Death Eaters beside him each took an arm and carried the limp Selwyn before Tom.
They let go, and Selwyn fell with a thud, sprawling on the ground like a puddle of mud.
He had never been particularly tough. Otherwise, he would not have started spilling information the moment the Ministry of Magic arrested him, without even needing to be interrogated.
Tom took out a wand with a silver bone handle and carefully wiped it with a white cloth, neither expressing an opinion nor taking any further action.
Yet the pressure only grew heavier. It was like the calm before a storm, and the Death Eaters involuntarily held their breath.
Gradually, Selwyn's own terror consumed his mind, and he felt close to wetting himself.
He looked up in despair at the still-unruffled Dark Lord, terrified that a Killing Curse would end his life the next instant.
Finally, he steeled himself and began confessing his mistakes through streaming tears and snot, banging his forehead loudly against the muddy ground.
"Master, I was wrong! Master, I truly was wrong! Please give me another chance."
Tom discreetly took a small step back, a trace of disgust flashing through his calm eyes. Was this what Voldemort's followers were like?
Then he waved his wand. Rather than casting the Cruciatus Curse or Killing Curse everyone expected, he simply flung Selwyn violently aside, putting some distance between himself and the revolting man.
Then he spoke warmly.
"Don't be afraid, my friend. In this world, any mistake can be atoned for. Tell me, Selwyn, what can you pay for yours?"
All the Death Eaters froze, then immediately understood.
The Dark Lord had become pragmatic.
He no longer talked about loyalty and ideals.
*Was that