Dommere Ⅱ

After a long lapse of silence, "Rise," Voldemort finally said to Dorcas's vast relief.

"Thank you for your graciousness and tender mercy, Milord," Dorea gratefully said as she raised herself on trembling limbs. Her back was covered in cold sweat and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight. However, she was alive, and that is all that mattered.

"I will not inquire to the reason for your betrayal," Voldemort coolly said, "but I will tolerate no falsehoods."

"I have no such intentions, Master," Dorcas sincerely vowed.

"I intend to make sure of that," Voldemort rose to his feet and without warning broke into the spy's mind. As a powerful legilimens with ease, he tore through her defense and peered into her most recent memories. With ease, he saw and heard the discussion of the Order of the Phoenix as well as her disgust with magical creatures.

Yet that was not sufficient for Voldemort, he had witnessed his ancient foe hide inside another and had no intent of allowing another abomination to influence him. Scouring her mind, he felt not the slightest inkling of another or of others. However, he did find traces of what appeared to be memories that were obliviated whether by her hand or another's.

Pulling himself out of her mind, Voldemort pensively studies Dorcas Meadows, who is gasping loudly in pain holding her head up with one hand. Peering through watery eyes, she gasps, "I hope, Milord, was satisfied with what he sought."

"For now, your services are acceptable to me, Auror Meadows," Voldemort privately smirked having witnessed the membership of the entire Order of the Phoenix. It would save him a great deal of trouble in the future. With ease, he would pick them off one by one and watch how the old coot's face would twist in pain.

 "Though I was surprised at how easily you manipulated the Order and hid your aversion of magical creatures," Voldemort folded an arm behind his back to stand. He raised his other hand and flexed his fingers in the air before clenching it into a fist as if catching an invisible creature.

"Yes, well, we all can't be perfect," Dorcas flippantly retorted, before biting her tongue in a panic lest she get herself killed over a frivolous comment.

"Go," Voldemort eagerly turned causing his robes to rustle behind him. "Send in those awaiting, they know who they are."

"Yes, Milord," Dorcas hesitated for a moment, "Do you have any other orders to convey?"

A strange almost eerie expression is on Voldemort's face. He took a step forward looming over her, before drawing near to her ear to whisper his dreadful orders. Dorca's Meadows face turns ghastly as her eyes widen in shock at the request. Every fiber in her body screamed at her to turn away, but it was too late.

Stepping back, Voldemort's crimson serpent eyes observe every detail of Dorcas Meadows. He can with ease see the inner turmoil raging within her. His task was to be a test of Auror Meadow's fidelity. Meadows should complete her task; she would be marked as a Death Eater.

"I shall eagerly await your response, Meadows," Voldemort steadfastly instructed leaving no room for objections.

"As you wish, Master," Dorcas tremblingly bowed and raised her hood to hide her pale sickly face, before departing from the Hall. She barely made it out of the hall before vomiting into a receptacle. She gasped and panted as moisture escaped her eyes from her hunched-over figure.

Feeling that she was in over her head, Dorcas somehow stumbled out of the fort, before apperating home. She wasn't able to sleep that night nor on the many nights to come. Just what had she done?

Left alone in the Great Hall Voldemort strode to a small window looking out into the stone yard of the rock fortress. He does not gaze at the patrolling sentries but rather gazes up at the night sky. The stars appear dim in the hanging darkness overhead.

The rustle of robes announces the presence of those he desires to meet with. Without turning around, Voldemort peeks at their reflections shown in the glass panes. "MaCann and Sirglide, what do the leeches have to say?'

A thick Death Eater with a long scar across his face, MaCann loudly snickers while Sirglide, a spotted Death Eater sneers in agreement revealing uneven teeth. "Master, the bloodsuckers have agreed to attack, but they require a target before August, or they will not move until next year."

"Let them know, there is a plan in motion, I shall privately meet with the Pontifex Maximus myself to make the arraignments," Voldemort's twisted in a chilling smile. The plan would kill two birds with one stone, he looked forward to seeing the fall of Ambrogio Sangria.

"We shall immediately convey the message, Dark Lord," the two Death Eaters swore, before hurriedly departing from the hall.

Turning to face the small group of followers, Voldemort's crimson serpent eyes raked the group for any sign of weakness. Satisfied by what he saw, he addressed the married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Lee (the parents of Barnaby Lee). "Lee, you promised me the pledge of your younger brother."

"We are weak, Milord," the Lee couple fell to the floor. "My younger brother, Cecil has forcibly taken custody of our son, Barnaby. Even our mother's tears are not sufficient to change my brother's mind, since he has the ear of Lyall Lupin."

"Oh?" Voldemort said with interest. "Lupin is a renowned authority on non-human spiritual apparitions."

"It is as you said, Milord," Mrs. Lee worshipfully murmured.

"Still, your brother can easily be placed under the Imperious curse, can he not?"

"Cecil is guarded by Vulcan," Mr. Lee angrily spat, "a trained fire salamander."

"Yes, I can see how it would be difficult to place him under your power," Voldemort mused, before gazing at his most loyal follower. "Lestrange, do you have any suggestions having successfully placed a spy of our own in the Ministry of Magic?"

"They are weak, Dark Lord," crisply responded a tall, thin, dark-haired wizard with gaunt cheeks. His dark eyes are frigid as ice and burn with the deadliest of fires. "Allow me in their place to complete your bidding," he bowed to the ground causing his robes to pool around him.

"No," Voldemort waved his hand to reject the proposal, "this is a task for the Lees and them alone."

"We shall not fail you, Master," the Lee couple bowed almost to the floor before hurrying out of the hall to do the Dark Lord's bidding.

"Gibbons," Voldemort called out, "what is the prognosis on recruits."

A wizard with a rather dour face bitterly responds, "Since the attack on Hogsmeade the families that were on the fence such as the Goyle and Crabbe families have pulled back. They will decidedly remain neutral lest they lose their only heirs in a war that will have no victor without the shedding of blood."

"They are weak!" Shouted a dark-haired wizard with equally dark eyes.

"Griffin Greengrass, I did not bid you to speak," Voldemort sharply corrected the overzealous young man.

"Forgive me, master," Griffin Greengrass sincerely plopped down onto the floor in an apologetic fashion.

"Desist," Voldemort gestured to the zealous wizard, before turning back to Gibbons. "I am far from satisfied at such a response, Gibbons, I do not tolerate failure."

"I know, sir," Gibbons bowed and gazed down at the floor to hide his inner turmoil. If he had known, he would have stayed neutral. Quickly clearing his thoughts of such treachery, he straightens up. "I shall try other forms of avenues, if need be, such as the use of force, Milord."

"Most excellent response," Voldemort clapped his hands in satisfaction. "New blood is needed for the cause, and you have a very important part to play in the new world order, Gibbons."

 Sensing the threat, Gibbons bows again before darting out of the Hall. If he couldn't find a single new recruit, he would have no choice but to become a turncoat or flee the country. Frankly, neither option appealed to him.