Voldemort raised his wand.
"Then let me help you remember what it means not to dare."
"Cruciatus Curse!"
The red light struck its target instantly.
Avery's body immediately arched, and he rolled frantically on the ground, convulsing and letting out inhuman screams.
Douglas watched the scene calmly.
But witnessing it firsthand still left him deeply uncomfortable.
Not out of sympathy.
Rather, this pure, meaningless violence disgusted him.
Even killing should end with a single blow.
Voldemort kept his wand trained on Avery, watching expressionlessly as he writhed in agony on the ground.
For a full thirty seconds.
Only then did he raise his wand.
Avery lay limp on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water.
"Get up, Avery."
Voldemort spoke softly, his tone carrying a sickly tenderness.
"Stand up."
Avery struggled to his feet, his legs trembling so badly he could barely stand, and staggered back into the circle.
"You ask me for forgiveness?"
Voldemort looked at him.
"I do not forgive."
"Nor will I forget."
"Thirteen long years..."
He surveyed the entire circle, his voice like a judgment:
"Every one of you will repay me the debt of those thirteen years."
"With your loyalty, with your obedience, with your blood."
"Then... perhaps... I will consider forgiving you."
No one dared speak.
Voldemort watched this with satisfaction, then abruptly changed the subject.
"But before that, I must first correct a misunderstanding."
His voice grew confident, even carrying a hint of smugness.
"You all thought I disappeared because I had failed?"
"No."
"I merely chose to leave this tedious stage for a time."
The Death Eaters raised their heads, looking at him in surprise.
"That night thirteen years ago, my spell was reflected by an ancient, primitive blood magic."
Voldemort admitted it openly.
"I admit that, at that moment,