Voldemort surveyed the hooded faces.
Though there was no wind, a faint rustle seemed to pass through the circle, as though it had shuddered.
Douglas watched the fearful, fanatical figures, his mind racing.
Thirteen people.
No, fourteen, counting Wormtail.
He began silently studying each person's build and stance, trying to deduce their identities from the details.
The one to Wormtail's right, with the elegant stance and robes of noticeably finer fabric than the others-Lucius Malfoy, a ninety percent chance.
And that hunched one...
"You seem nervous."
Voldemort spoke suddenly, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"There is no need, my servants. I will not slaughter you as some of you imagine."
He paced slowly, passing each Death Eater.
"After all, I have only just returned. This is precisely when I need followers."
"But..."
His voice abruptly turned cold.
"There is something I need to establish."
"Are you still worthy of being called Death Eaters?"
No one dared answer.
Voldemort raised his snakelike face, flared his slitlike nostrils, and inhaled deeply.
"I smell guilt."
He spoke with mockery in his voice.
"No, not merely guilt."
"There is also fear, doubt, and even..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over a trembling figure.
"...regret?"
The Death Eater under his gaze dropped abruptly to his knees, shaking like a leaf.
"M-my... my Lord... no... I haven't..."
"Silence, Avery."
Voldemort spoke coldly.
"I have not asked you anything yet."
He continued pacing, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Thirteen years."
"A full thirteen years have passed since our last gathering."
"I see you all healthy and well, brimming with magic."
"Your manors still stand, your vaults are still full, and your families still enjoy their prestige."
"You were even able to come here so quickly after receiving my summons."
He stopped and spun around.
"Then I