Chapter 6

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The next day was a very significant day at the manor. It was the first full scale Death Eater meeting since Voldemort had initially announced his return to his followers. Everyone was called in. It was 3 pm in the afternoon when everyone was summoned to the manor and the group gathered in the ballroom, nervously looking around, wondering were Voldemort was because he wasn't in the room waiting for them.


The group was already larger than it had been before since there had already been some success in the recruitment front. Most of the new recruits were family members of the older Death Eaters but there were also some who were friends, co-workers, and political allies who had been brought in at some point during the previous month. But none of those present seemed to actually know what this meeting was about. The only one in the room who seemed to know what was going on was Barty, who was standing off to the side, surveying the crowd with a smirk on his lips. He was wearing black robes, like the rest of them, but his hood was down and his mask was tucked into his inner pocket. Some in the room were dressed the same as he, with their faces exposed, while most wore their masks.


The doors to the ballroom opened, rather dramatically, and the room fell silent. Voldemort walked in with his brisk, powerful, strides, and Harry, as Evan Harris, followed immediately behind him with equal confidence. He was wearing his Death Eater robes and silver half-mask, and carrying a leather portfolio filled with papers. Some of the gathered Death Eaters all bowed at the waist as Voldemort came to stand at the front of the group while about a third of them went all the way down to their knees in a sign of submission.


"I hope you all have your schedules cleared for the day because we will likely be here for a while," Voldemort began. "For those of my followers who stood by me during the first war, aside from those of you who now work in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, it has likely been years since you last saw action. For those who have joined me since my return, it is likely you never have seen real action at all. I know that many of you have enjoyed comfort during my absence and it's likely you have allowed your skills to slip," he sneered as he glowered across the group. Quite a few flinched or bowed their heads under his glare.


"I need to gauge your combative skill levels and it is likely that many of you are in desperate need of training. I will be splitting you into three groups. Those of you who possess advanced skill, and have not let your ability to duel or battle degrade over the years. Those of you who are able in battle but could still use training to further your skills will be placed in the intermediate group. And, finally, a group for those with absolutely worthless combat skills. I understand that some of you have uses to me that go beyond your ability to fight but I still need to know where you skill level lies."


Voldemort's gaze traveled over the group of forty-plus men and a few women in black robes and white masks. Some of them, especially the older of the group, had obviously grown fat and lazy in the years since his last rise to power. They possessed political power and influence so they were far from useless but he knew that when it came time for combat, many of them would be useless. Fortunately, he didn't expect any combat scenarios to arise for at least three months and he was sure he could pull together a good enough team for what he had planned from the remaining Death Eaters by then.


"The three groups will be expected to come to the manor at a designated time, every week, for training... with me."


As he finished that last part, a mix of excited and anxious murmurs broke out in the crowd and the level of tension rose considerably.


"I will designate the time and you will be responsible for creating some sort of excuse as to why you are gone each week. I am not going to try and accommodate everyone's schedules, you will simply have to make due. You will be here."

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