Voldemort's gaze first fell on his father's tomb, looking at the "Riddle" surname, his expression revealing disgust and hatred. Then, he averted his gaze from the grave and began to examine his own body.
His long, pale fingers caressed his chest, arm, and rose to his face. However, as he conducted the examination, the anger in Voldemort's eyes grew.
"Why... why?" Voldemort could sense a slight discordance in his new body, like a wrong note in a piano melody, an empty space in a lawn, or cilantro in soup, disturbing the overall sense of perfection.
It didn't affect his normal activities, but it was uncomfortable, like when the body feels sticky from sweat in summer, or when you wake up from a nap, and it's already nighttime outside.
This uncomfortable sensation completely ruined Voldemort's joy of being reborn. He felt like he should be angry, but now he didn't even know where to begin with his anger.
Was there something wrong with his resurrection magic? No, the great Lord Voldemort would never make a mistake. It must be one of the three steps of resurrection magic!
Bone from the father, flesh from the servant, blood from the enemy...
Voldemort's mind began to spin rapidly. He had to find which step had gone wrong. He could first rule out the bone from the father because he had killed the old man and buried him here... the father's bone definitely wasn't the problem.
Could it be that the blood from the enemy wasn't fresh enough? Voldemort hesitated for a moment: this form of resurrection magic was extremely rare in the history of the magical world. He could consider himself a pioneer groping his way forward, with almost no prior experience, and Voldemort couldn't be sure if there was any difference between taking the blood of Harry Potter or that of his own servants. Perhaps he had been too eager to come back to life and acted hastily.
At that moment, he looked at Peter Pettigrew, who was standing nearby, trembling a bit, with his wrist dripping blood. Voldemort frowned and drew a wand from his long cloak, making a casual motion. The wound on Pettigrew's wrist instantly healed.
Voldemort wondered if the servant who had sacrificed his flesh wasn't loyal enough. The flesh from the servant had to be willingly given... heh, Peter... willingly? What if the servant wasn't willing enough? Voldemort felt like he had discovered the truth.
The blame for the resurrection magic not working lay with Peter!
But in reality, this was arbitrary. Magic is something very subjective, and Voldemort was performing a very rare spell. It was normal for some setbacks to occur, and there was no solid evidence to prove Peter's guilt. But Voldemort didn't need evidence to punish.
Voldemort gently stroked his wand and glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eye.
Out of fear or perhaps respect, both Peter and Barty, the two servants, lowered their heads and dared not look directly at Voldemort.
"Crucio!"
Suddenly, he cast the Cruciatus curse on his loyal servant. This was unexpected, and Peter, who was standing beside him, trembled and gripped his own wand, hidden in the sleeve of his robe.
Peter writhed and let out a cry of pain. He fell to the ground, rolling frantically.
However, Voldemort only punished him lightly and didn't intend to seriously torture Peter. After a few seconds, he raised his wand, allowing the tortured Wormtail to lie gasping on the ground.
"Get up," Voldemort said softly. "Wormtail... do you think you can hide something from the great Lord Voldemort? I've always known... your loyalty isn't as strong as I thought. You return to me not out of loyalty but out of fear of your old friend... You see, it took a lot for you to offer me a piece of flesh."
Peter and Barty felt their hearts in their throats.
"You owe me thirteen years of debt, Wormtail... You should be grateful to have paid something, or else today wouldn't be as simple as a Crucio curse." Voldemort toyed with his wand. In fact, he had forgiven Peter, but he had also taken away the reward he had originally promised him: a full and powerful magical hand. Of course, following Voldemort's character, that magical hand would also have a hidden trap. If Peter betrayed Voldemort, the magical hand would strangle him to death.
So the reward wasn't obtained, and instead, it was fortunate for Peter.
Upon hearing Voldemort's implication, Peter and Barty both let out a sigh of relief simultaneously.
Voldemort looked at Peter in front of him and said indifferently, "Extend your arm, not the broken one."
He bent down and lifted Peter's left arm, pulling up the sleeve of his robe. Inside his arm, there was a bright red tattoo: a skull from which a serpent emerged.
This was how Death Eaters identified and communicated with each other: the Dark Mark. Only the most loyal followers of Voldemort were marked with the Dark Mark, which was considered a great honor by the followers. Even Peter Pettigrew had been "granted" this badge recently.
Unlike common tattoos, the color of the Dark Mark on the Death Eaters' arms was related to Voldemort's current state. When he was in decline, the marks on the Death Eaters faded completely. But now, the tattoo was turning bright red, like blood.
Voldemort examined it carefully. To him, there was no more perfect badge. The skull symbolizing death and the serpent representing Slytherin House combined perfectly, showing the essence of the Death Eaters: the spread of fear and death by pure-blood wizards. The Dark Mark had a deeper meaning, as only pure-blood wizards could bring new life to a magical world that had been left in the past.
In the eyes of the Death Eaters, the magical world full of half-blood and Muggle-born wizards was as stagnant as a stagnant pond. The Death Eaters were the only active force in that pond. Wasn't the skull spitting out a serpent a form of vitality in the midst of death? It was terrifying, profound, and understandable why Voldemort and the Death Eaters valued it so much.
The reason Voldemort loved this emblem was slightly different from that of his followers. For them, the Dark Mark was a symbol of the Death Eaters. But when Voldemort looked at the mark, he recalled the times when he terrorized the wizarding world. The meaning of the mark itself didn't matter to him; he simply enjoyed the feeling of being above everyone else, the pleasure of having everything under control, and the expression of fear on the faces of others.
As he gazed upon the Dark Mark on Peter Pettigrew's arm, Voldemort displayed a satisfied expression. What a perfect shade of blood-red! Although he felt that his body wasn't entirely right, that didn't hinder him from regaining all his power. He was still as powerful as before, and the Dark Mark was the best proof of it!
"It has appeared, as perfect as ever..." Voldemort smiled coldly. "It's so late, I suppose everyone should be sleeping, right? Allow me to awaken them to see their former master..."
He pressed his long, pale fingers onto Peter Pettigrew's arm, and the blood-red Dark Mark immediately turned black.
The moment Voldemort pressed the Dark Mark, in every corner of the wizarding world, witches and wizards of all shapes and colors awakened from their dreams. Some were in Azkaban, others in tents, and some lay in luxurious beds. Although each individual's situation was different, they all did the same thing: they got up and rolled up their left sleeves.
On their arms, they all had the same tattoo. This tattoo had accompanied them for more than a decade, even decades... Today, the faded tattoo suddenly activated and turned a charred black, causing a burning sensation and waking the Death Eaters with the Dark Mark tattooed from their sleep.
The awakened individuals looked at their arms, remaining in a state of bewilderment.
The change in the Dark Mark could only mean one thing: the Dark Lord had returned, and he was gathering his followers. After feeling Voldemort's call, all Death Eaters had to use Apparition to appear instantly by his side, or else they could be considered traitors.
In Azkaban, hysterical howls were heard. A disheveled woman ran to the door of her cell and desperately pounded on the prison door. During the process of pounding the door, her tattered robe slipped down, revealing a charred black mark on her arm.
Cellmates and other prisoners also awakened and entered a state of excitement.
The Dark Mark has been summoned!
This means that their lord, the great Lord Voldemort, has returned! The opportunity for their release looms on the horizon, how could they not be excited?
Life in Azkaban was inhumane. The most despairing aspect was that they were sentenced for life. These endless days with no end in sight were the most terrifying, like the myth of Sisyphus. Many prisoners had died in the prison due to the lack of hope.
Now there is hope! With Voldemort, there is a future, with Voldemort, the Death Eaters will be free. They can return to their life of domination.
A brief cry of joy resonated throughout Azkaban prison, but then most prisoners closed their mouths, as their positivity, triggered by the Dark Mark, attracted the Azkaban guards, the Dementors.
The Dementors were also confused: how did these wretches suddenly come alive? It was like a teapot of green tea, after being steeped three times, it no longer had flavor and was as bland as water, but suddenly, it emitted a strong and concentrated aroma. It was a very unusual phenomenon.
So they approached to investigate.
Feeling the piercing chill, almost all the Death Eaters obediently closed their mouths, shrank back, and prayed for the Dementors to leave soon. Only a disheveled-looking woman continued to pound on her cell door.
"Bella, calm down a bit," some individual Death Eaters tried to get Bella to calm down, to avoid further provoking the Dementors, but Bella didn't seem to hear.
This disheveled woman was named Bellatrix Lestrange, the most loyal and insane follower of Voldemort.
Finally, Bella's "elevated" and "positive" mood managed to attract the Dementors.
Half a dozen Dementors stood in front of Bellatrix's cell door for a while before the mad witch fainted.
The Dementors enjoyed their meal.
...
Lucius and his wife fell into silence. After a long pause, Lucius sighed and disappeared into the darkness.
...
Severus Snape stood in his narrow and gloomy room, expressionless, letting the Mark on his arm burn. After a moment of contemplation, he put on his cloak, donned the mask he hadn't worn in years, and Disapparated instantly.
He was going to reunite with the "old master" from many years ago!
...
A tall, thin wizard with short white hair and a curly goatee on his chin paced anxiously back and forth in his luxurious room. His eyes were filled with fear.
Igor Karkaroff had considered the possibility that the Dark Lord might come back to life, but he never thought it would be so sudden. This sudden resurrection stirred a great turmoil in the depths of his mind.
Once the Dark Mark lit up, the Death Eaters were obligated to answer the call; that was the iron rule. But Karkaroff didn't have the courage to show up.
He looked wistfully at his luxurious room behind him and, with determination, stepped into the fireplace: he fled.
...
After activating the Dark Mark, Voldemort walked back and forth among the graves, scrutinizing each tombstone.
"Heh, this place actually reminds me of my family history... I wonder how many of my true family members would have the guts to return after feeling the summons," Voldemort raised his head and with reddened eyes, gazed at the stars in the sky. "And how many will be foolish enough to flee and not come."
Suddenly, the sound of cloaks billowing in the air could be heard, and in every corner of the cemetery, wizards Apparated. Each of them wore hoods and concealed their faces, just as they had done hours earlier during the march.
Voldemort also stopped and silently awaited the arrival of his followers.
The Death Eaters knelt one by one before Voldemort, kissing the hem of his black robe, and then stepped back to form a silent circle. Even Barty Crouch Jr. did the same, kissing Voldemort's robe and finding his place in the circle, surrounding Voldemort and Wormtail.
Everyone's movements were perfectly coordinated, as if they had rehearsed them countless times.
"You too, go back and stand with Barty for now," Voldemort ordered Wormtail.
Wormtail, who received the order, clumsily imitated the movements of the other Death Eaters and staggered into place beside Barty.
Although there were still many empty spots in the circle, Voldemort no longer expected anyone else to come.
"Thirteen years... it has been thirteen years since the last meeting, and yet here you are, as always," Voldemort's words sounded like he was praising the Death Eaters, but they all trembled as if a gust of wind had passed through the circle and stirred it.
"The scent of guilt," Voldemort lifted his head and acted as if he were smelling the air.
"Your promptness greatly bewilders me. I wonder why this powerful force couldn't find anyone willing to answer the call and assist their lord over the past thirteen years."
Everyone in the circle trembled again upon hearing those words; it was evident that every Death Eater wanted to step back, but they didn't dare.
"I have the answer, because you believed your lord had failed, that he was finished, so you ran back into the arms of my enemy, declared yourselves innocent, claimed you were coerced, and fell under a spell. Some even betrayed their own comrades!"
Voldemort looked around and noticed a particular figure was absent. He smiled coldly.
"He dares not come... very well, he will pay the price."
Seeing someone had become the scapegoat, many Death Eaters felt relieved. They thought, "Excellent, let him be the primary target!"
After casually deciding someone's fate, Voldemort began to scrutinize his former followers.
His gaze settled on one person in particular, and immediately, beads of sweat began to form on that person's body.
"Why do I not remember using the Imperius Curse on you, Avery?"
The Death Eater immediately fell to the ground, prostrated at Voldemort's feet, trembling from head to toe, and stammered, "Master, I-"
"Crucio!" Voldemort didn't even bother to listen to his explanation and attacked him directly with the Cruciatus Curse.
Screams echoed throughout the graveyard, and all the Death Eaters shuddered.