"Stand up," Voldemort finally said after settling himself comfortably on the sofa, his voice echoing coldly through the hall of Malfoy Manor.
The Death Eaters obeyed at once, rising to their feet. Even so, their heads remained bowed and their eyes were fixed on the ground. None dared to meet the Dark Lord's gaze. Standing before Voldemort was suffocating.
Even in ordinary times, the weight of his presence pressed down on them like an invisible hand. Facing him had always been so suffocating and frightening.
But now, after the devastating losses suffered by their organisation only days ago, their fear had been further magnified. None of them knew what mood their master was in, or how his already unstable mind might react to their failure. The uncertainty made their anxiety unbearable.
"I know," Voldemort said, breaking the tense silence, "that the last plan we had sought to execute, a plan which had meant to elevate our strength and reputation to the highest level has backfired. Not only has our reputation suffered gravely, we have lost 8 of our brave and loyal soldiers."
Although it was faint, there was a little tone of regret and pain in Voldemort's voice as he spoke of his loyal soldiers.
"At the moment, every one of us is consumed by grief, and the losses we have suffered are immense," he continued. "What you may not yet realize is that we have lost far more than you think. And if this is not corrected, the cost to us will be far greater still in the future."
The Death Eaters stiffened, surprised by that pain in their master's voice. He seemed unnervingly composed, almost rational, as though he were weighing matters rather than exploding in wrath.
"For a long time, we have been able to push our ideology almost unhindered. Very few have had the guts to resist us. They would think uncountable times before daring to speak a word against us. Even the powerful Ministry was almost turning a blind eye to our actions. It had been so easy to infiltrate and place people sympathetic to our cause in the ministry and manipulate its ways as we had wanted," he said.
"A single Death Eater from our organisation instilled terror and fear merely by his presence. The appearance of our attire and the mask had been such a strong statement. Not a single common man would have dared or even thought of the possibility of resisting one of our comrades. Who would have imagined that someone would actually have the nerve to raise a wand against a Death Eater? But that is exactly what has happened. One man accomplished the impossible. A single man killed eight of our finest. He slaughtered them, cut their heads off, blew their heads off."
Voldemort paused, letting the words settle, then continued.
"Not only did he kill these men, he is proudly flaunting his achievement. He gives interviews to the newspapers. He tells his whole story to the world. He is not afraid of our retribution. Edmund Bones struts before us as if daring us to attack him. As if he has placed his chest in front of us and is asking us, is daring us, to fire spells at his chest."
"He does not stop there," the dark lord continued. "He is urging people to oppose us. He calls on them to raise their wands against us and kill us."
"The Ministry, which had been ignoring us, has been pressured into action. They have been forced to scramble and frantically seek our brethren to arrest them."
"Do you realise what a massive loss we have suffered?" He questioned. No reply came.
"I asked if you realised what a massive loss we have suffered?" He repeated his question as his cold voice echoed in the Malfoy manor.
"Yes, My lord," the death eaters replied this time.
"Good," Voldemort smiled. "But should this loss put us down? Should this damage slow us down?"
He did not wait for an answer this time.
"No," he continued. "Which great journey did not see any setbacks? But we should not stop. We should continue moving forwards."
"But the question is what should be our next step?" He continued. "What action should we take?"
"Vengenace against Edmund Bones is surely one thing," Voldemort said, his voice ice cold. "And I promise, I will have vengeance against him."
The last line Voldemort had said staring directly into Rodolphus Lestrange's eyes. It was as if he was giving assurance to a son of a deceased father.
"But," Voldemort said. "We need to do something more. The reputation that we have lost. The image which has been tarnished. Everything should be warned back. The terror of the name of a death eater… of the presence of a man in death eaters' attire. Everything should be earned back. The dread which they had for us should not only be earned back but taken to an even greater height.
"And how do we do that?" He questioned. His voice echoed in the hall and had been amplified by magic. It was inducing a rush of adrenaline in his slaves and motivating them to do his bidding.
"I authorize you all. I free you all," Voldemort roared. "I let you all loose."
"Go and commit whatever you want. Go and do whatever you desire. You want to murder someone because you did not like them. Go do it. You take a liking to a woman. Go capture her. You do not like someone's house. Turn it into a ruin."
"I free you all to commit all the atrocities and cruelty you can imagine to anyone you wish," Voldemort roared, earning a pin drop silence from the death eaters. "The only restriction on you is that no harm should be done to your comrade. To your fellow death eater."
"Let the reign of terror spread over the Wizarding Britain," he said, raising his fist high in the air. "Let the fear of me be so strong that no one even dares to mumble the name of Voldemort. That even speaking about me becomes a taboo."
There were a couple of moments of silence then out of a sudden all the death eaters erupted in uncontrolled cheers. These people had already been blood thirsty monsters who felt pleasure in bestowing pain and torture on other people. Now that they had been granted a free reign by their lord, their pure blood was pumping in excitement.
Voldemort had an evil grin on his face as he looked at his slaves. He was not going to step back. Someone had dared to defy him… go against him. Now, he was going to unleash these monsters on the Wizarding Britain. He was going to bring the Wizarding Britain on its knees.
Amidst all this chaos and blood thumping, one figure stood silently with a wry smile on his face. Lucius Malfoy. He was having a feeling in his mind which was hard to explain.
Standing not far away from him was Rodolphus Lestrange. He too was not shouting or screaming. But there was a glint in his eyes. A glint of cruelty. This announcement from the dark lord was a lucky thing for him. For it aligned with the first step that he and his mother had planned. He clenched his fist as his blood pumped from excitement.
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