The Shopkeeper of All Worlds in the British Wizarding World

Chapter 319 Resurrection
"Master, I have handed Harry Potter over to you." Little Barty said in a tone mixed with humility and enthusiasm, and he bent his waist hard like a shrimp. Looking at the expression on his face, if Voldemort was standing there at this time, he would kiss Voldemort's feet without hesitation.

"Very good. You will get an unexpected reward." The snake-faced baby hissed, just like a snake. "Take me over, let me see our guest."

Little Barty took the baby version of Voldemort without hesitation. At this time, a gust of wind blew off the hood of the short wizard, revealing a wretched face. Peter really went after Voldemort after escaping Azkaban.

The package containing Voldemort was held in front of Harry by Little Barty, and then a hissing sound came from the package again.

"What a wonderful prey this is! We have been preparing for half a year to get him. Fortunately, we timed our raid well and achieved our goal unexpectedly smoothly." Voldemort sighed.

Voldemort's voice suddenly turned cold: "Now, what are you waiting for here?"

After hearing this, Peter quickly crouched and left. After a while, he pushed out a heavy stone crucible from behind a small mound. The crucible seemed to be completely filled. When it was moved, the sound of liquid splashing could be heard. The potion in the pot was as clear and transparent as water after being boiled with a large amount of expensive medicinal materials. If this potion was scrapped, even Voldemort himself would need at least three months to make another potion, not to mention the time spent collecting materials.

After putting the pot in place, Wormtail used his wand to tap the bottom of the crucible. Suddenly, a crackling flame jumped out from under the crucible. This pot of rare and expensive potion was boiled quickly with the help of the flame. Its surface jumped wildly and even splashed sparks from time to time, as if it was burning. The surrounding steam became thicker and thicker, and the figure of Wormtail who was watching the flame became blurred. That sharp, cold voice came from the fog again.

"Now, hurry up."

With a serious expression, Little Batty carefully unwrapped the swaddling clothes in his hand as if it were a holy object, revealing a monster with dark red skin, no hair, deformed limbs, and a flat snake face with red eyes.

However, Little Batty did not show any disgust, he held the monster gently as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, then lifted the guy up and put it steadily into the boiling and sparking crucible.

The drama of Voldemort's resurrection is about to begin.

To be precise, this is not resurrection. Resurrection does not exist in the world of Harry Potter. Only in the world of high magic can such a completely heaven-defying skill be born.

What Voldemort is doing now is not so much resurrection as it is creating a new body for his weak and broken soul. After all, Voldemort, who created the Horcrux, is not dead, so naturally he cannot be resurrected.

The two lackeys of Voldemort present showed a look of surprise, because even Dumbledore, the recognized greatest white wizard, had no way to revive, so he lived with the regret of his sister's death for the rest of his life. In this case, the drama of Voldemort's resurrection naturally made the two Death Eaters admire him very much. For example, Peter was so excited that he could hardly stand.

But the little Barty who was in charge of the ceremony was much more reliable than the original Peter - at least his hands did not shake when he took the pottery jar from a tree stump. He touched the mouth of the jar with his wand, "Father's bones, donated unintentionally, can make your son reborn!"

It seems that Voldemort dug up his father's grave, but this does not cause him any psychological pressure. Digging up the grave is nothing compared to killing his father's family with his own hands.

As he chanted, a small wisp of dust flew out of the jar and fell gently into the crucible. The diamond-like liquid surface burst, hissing, sparks flying, and the liquid turned a bright blue. At first glance, it gave people the feeling that this liquid was definitely poisonous.

After using it, Barty Jr. carefully put away the jar. Of course, this was not out of respect for Voldemort's Muggle father, but because the ingredient of this potion, which is the father's bone, is limited. If Voldemort needs it again next time, this thing can come in handy again. Anyway, not many ashes are used for one potion, and the remaining amount in the jar is probably enough for Voldemort to use it eight or ten times. After checking that this step was correct, Barty Jr. rolled up his sleeves without hesitation and stretched his hand above the crucible. Then he said in a firm tone, "The flesh of a servant, voluntarily donated, can bring your master back to life!" Then he pulled out a dagger from his leg with his other hand and chopped it down fiercely, and a lot of blood gushed out from the broken end. But there was no pain on Barty Jr.'s face, but he watched his arm fall into the pot with a martyr's ecstasy.

The blue potion turned fiery red and at the same time emitted a strong light. Peter Pettigrew's mind was completely conquered by this scene. He knelt down facing the pot, muttering something unknown in his mouth.

Barty used a spell to seal the wound on his arm, and then he approached Harry with a dagger and a crystal bottle. Just as he walked in front of Harry and was about to cut him, a clay pot suddenly flew out from the woods next to him and hit Peter who was kneeling beside the pot.

Soon a green flame enveloped him, causing him to scream miserably and roll on the ground. At the same time, runes appeared on the cauldron that was stewing Voldemort, blocking the approaching flames. However, the barrier formed by these runes quickly trembled under the licking of the green flames, and it seemed that it could not last for too long.

"No!" Barty Crouch Jr. roared. Just as he was about to turn back to rescue the crucible, he heard an angry voice coming from the pot, "Complete the ritual now, quickly!"

Suddenly, a sharp blade made of shadows hit the rope tied to the tree stump, and the rope broke. Harry fell to the ground. The impact woke Harry up. He didn't bother to adjust his collar, which had turned up to cover his mouth and nose because of falling to the ground. After seeing everything in front of him, he subconsciously kicked the knee of Barty Jr. who was walking towards him with a dagger.

After being kicked, Little Barty was unsteady on his feet, but at the command of his master, he rushed forward and hugged Harry, and then bit Harry's face directly through his clothes.

As he bit it, Barty felt as if he had broken Harry's teeth, and a salty and sweet taste flowed into his mouth.

"Ah!" Just when Barty Jr. was about to take advantage of the victory to pursue and get Harry's blood, another sharp blade made of shadows flew over. Perhaps the attacker was afraid of hitting Harry who was hugging him, so the sharp blade just flew diagonally through his exposed calf and directly cut off his left knee.

Barty Jr. showed a look of sadness and madness, then he suddenly pulled down the clothes that were blocking Harry's face and bit him directly, leaving a deep wound on Harry's face.

"The blood of your enemy... forced to be donated... can resurrect your enemy...." After reciting the spell, Crouch, with blood in his mouth, raised his head and spat out a mouthful of blood-red saliva. With the help of magic, he flew directly into the crucible.

At this time, another blade made of shadow flew over, and Harry was horrified to see little Barty's head rolling down. A few seconds later, he heard the voice of a strange little girl behind him. "You, hurry up and run with me."

As the saliva containing Harry's blood flowed into the pot, the flame, which had been flickering, immediately lit up. The crucible was about to boil, and diamond-like sparks flew in all directions, bright and dazzling, turning everything around into the color of black velvet.

Although this practice made the ritual imperfect and even somewhat shameful, the blood of the last enemy was still in the pot. Even though several blades made of black shadows shot out from the forest, they were all blocked by the white mist coming out of the pot.

Finally, a black figure of a man slowly rose from the crucible, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

Voldemort is resurrected.

(End of this chapter)