In addition to the fee hike, Malfoy was proposing a loyalty bonus scheme, in which Death Eaters who proved themselves to be the most loyal would receive bonuses either paid in cash or in gifts. Malfoy put it across that the bonus scheme would produce better-motivated devotees and serve as recognition for hard work. The plan sounded reasonable and the Dark Lord agreed to put it to the vote, and it passed with an overwhelming majority.
Antonin wondered if the Dark Lord was as bored by these seemingly trivial issues as he was. It would be nice if someone could say that all this stuff about membership fees and attendance rates and discipline channels were insignificant in light of their true goal, which was to demonstrate the superiority of the pure magical being. It was to transcend the tedium of daily life and to defy the constraints of the filthy human body. If they could achieve a state of being that was of the purest spirit, immortal and infused with great power, and show the rest of the world how filthy and inferior they were, beholden to weak human bodies that were full of need and uncontrollable want, yes, that would be their gift to the world.
And yet it was his current lot to be the minute taker and secretary to the Dark Lord, thereby shielding his Lord from the taint of banality. He was not one to complain, however, he had faith that his devotion would one day be greatly rewarded.
The meeting was ended and they were dismissed. Free to return to the outside world to live exemplary lives in the eyes of their Lord, the ranks of Death Eaters filed out of the room.
Abruptly, there was a hiss from the floor, and each one of them froze on the spot. After the Dark Lord, none so terrified their hearts as Nagini, the giant serpent who was ever present in her silent way. On occasion, she hissed, speaking exclusively in Parseltongue to the Dark Lord, and silence would instantly befall. No one wanted to cross Nagini, that was certain, and she only hissed when she was cross.
"Malfoy," the Dark Lord called out, in a low, even voice, drawing out the last syllable. There was nothing as terrifying as when the Dark Lord's voice took on an even, reasoned tone, for this happened only when he was past the point of tolerance.
Malfoy turned with a great deal of dread. He was nearly quaking in his boots, and he looked ready to go to any lengths to placate the Dark Lord.
"Your boots," the Dark Lord mentioned, and at once all turned their eyes on his footwear. They were pointed, with a heel of polished wood and a scaly upper of python, which gleamed softly from the polish. "What are they made of?"
Malfoy began to stammer. "F-f-f-fishskin, my Lord."
"Nagini tells me they are python."
Malfoy threw himself onto the ground. "Please have mercy on me," he pleaded. "I thought they were in keeping with the style of the organisation..."
"You will do yourself a world of good to cease blabbering."
Malfoy nodded weakly, contrite, still bent over on the floor.
A spark of red shot out from the end of the Dark Lord's wand, flying through the air to hit Malfoy, who instantly contorted with pain from the blow. When he had been dealt the requisite measure of pain, the Dark Lord released him and the rest of them fled the place as quickly as they could.