Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “And what will become of those whom
you command? What will happen to those who call themselves — or so
rumor has it — the Death Eaters?”
Harry could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know
this name; he saw Voldemort’s eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils
flare.
“My friends,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “will carry on without me,
I am sure.”
“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I
was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”
“You are mistaken,” said Voldemort.
“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group
of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted
friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to
wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.”
There could be no doubt that Dumbledore’s detailed knowledge of those
with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however,
he rallied almost at once.
“You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.”
“Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen,” said Dumbledore lightly.
“Now, Tom...”
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat,
the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
“Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by
henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?”
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. “A job I do not want? On the contrary,
Dumbledore, I want it very much.”
“Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach
any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you’re
after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?”
Voldemort sneered. “If you do not want to give me a job —”
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