The Return to Hogwarts

Harry forced himself to look at the bloody scene, his gaze straining to penetrate the fiery red light emanating from the potion. He harbored a wicked thought, hoping to see Barty Crouch Jr. bleed to death!

However, Barty's mad conviction overcame his suffering, and amidst the shimmering, heart-wrenching sobs and Harry's hateful gaze, his pale face, bearing a sickly smile, drew near to Harry.

Harry wanted to spit out the gag from his mouth and then tear Barty Crouch's neck apart with his teeth, but he couldn't. He could only watch helplessly as Barty Crouch took the blood from his twisted arm.

"The blood of your enemy, forced upon you, can resurrect your foe!"

Weakness made Barty stagger, but he still accomplished his mission by dropping the glass vial containing Harry's blood into the cauldron, whereupon the liquid immediately emitted a bright, dazzling light.

In the velvety darkness, the roars and howls of ferocious beasts seemed to echo. The air vibrated with an inexplicable force, which pressed down on Harry's mind, suffocating him and nearly causing him to faint!

Something slowly rose from the white mist—a man, thin and tall, like a skeleton.

Little Barty struggled to his feet, pulled out a robe from somewhere, and, with hoarse breaths, put it on his master.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, his scarlet snake eyes staring at Harry. Harry saw the face that had appeared in his nightmares for the past three years, paler than a skull, with a nose as flat as a snake and nostrils that were just two thin slits.

Rumble!

Dark thunder rumbled across the gloomy sky, its roar shaking the earth and echoing throughout the land, seemingly proclaiming—

Voldemort is resurrected.

Chapter 851 Voldemort

2024-04-08

Voldemort shifted his gaze from Harry and began to examine the body—the body he had longed for for the past fifteen years, a period of profound darkness. His hands, like pale spiders, long, thin, pale fingers caressed his chest, arms, and face as if touching a precious jewel. His breathing was soft, and his expression was one of ecstatic joy.

"Owner."

Barty Crouch Jr. was as pale as a corpse, entirely due to blood loss from his severed arm. He stared fanatically at Voldemort's face, completely ignoring his own wound, and crawled laboriously on the ground with his remaining arm to Voldemort's feet, where he kissed the back of his foot.

Voldemort was admiring his own wand, which he had pulled from his robe pocket. He hadn't been able to wield it effectively in the past fifteen years. Barty's kiss caught his attention.

As if he had only just noticed the Death Eater loyal to him here, even though he had been cared for by this believer for the past year, even though he had only reached the point of resurrection with his help, Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Harry believed that the smile that appeared on Voldemort's lips was a faint mockery rather than admiration.

"Your performance tonight was a bit disappointing, Batty—"

Voldemort said softly.

“Luckily, there’s no one else here tonight, Barty. If someone had seen that childish duel, what would they have said? The Dark Lord’s loyal Death Eater was defeated by three underage kids from Hogwarts. Oh, if that got out, where would I put my face?”

Little Barty's face was almost pressed against the dirt. He dared not argue. Before the great Dark Lord, all excuses were untenable. He could only express his immense shame for bringing shame upon his master in this way.

"Get up, Batty--"

Voldemort said lazily,

“I said I would reward you once all this was done. The Dark Lord is a man of his word, especially to those who follow him faithfully. Arise, for you will not be among those who lose their precious lives tonight.”

Little Barty finally raised his head, his forehead covered in dirt, looking incredibly grateful.

Seemingly aware that Barty Crouch Jr. might bleed to death if things continued this way, Voldemort raised his wand and waved it in the air. The tip of the wand drew a silvery, melting streak of light. At first, it did not take shape, but then the streak of light twisted and turned into a human hand that shone with a silvery luster, which was then placed on Barty Crouch Jr.'s severed arm.

The pain stopped immediately, and Little Barty's surprised expression seemed to indicate that he hadn't expected his master to heal him, but instead received an unexpected reward.

"You are too kind, my master!"

"This is the reward you deserve, Barty, as compensation for the injustices you've suffered over the years. Of course, and of course, there will be more honors to come, but I think..."

Voldemort bent down and grabbed Barty Jr.'s arm, rolling up his sleeve to his elbow.

Harry thought that the first thing Voldemort would do after his resurrection was to kill him. He wasn't afraid; in fact, he couldn't wait for it to happen.

It was all over; that was it for him.

The moment Ron and Hermione fell, the wizarding world ended for him. But Voldemort didn't seem to be in a hurry to take his life; he left him aside as if he didn't exist.

A bright red tattoo design—a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth—was the design that appeared above the box on the night of the Quidditch final.

"--Publicly praise your loyalty and resolve in front of everyone. Come on—"

A smile crept across Voldemort's pale face.

"They must have noticed. Now, let's see. We'll see."

He pressed his long, pale index finger against Little Barty's arm, and as the bright red mark turned black, a cruel, triumphant expression appeared on his face.

"After sensing this, how many people have the courage to come back, and how many are foolish enough not to?"

"I will always follow you, my master!"

Barty was dizzy from blood loss. He stood up with difficulty, but every cell in his body was telling him of his worship of Voldemort.

Voldemort did not respond. He paced and circled the fallen cauldron, breathing deeply and gazing at the fresh air with a sense of ecstasy. Suddenly, he stopped, glanced at Harry, whose eyes were filled with boundless hatred, and gave a cruel smile.

“Go and bring them here, Barty, I mean Harry Potter’s friend. Let him see them one last time, he won’t see them again soon. The little girl you killed. She’ll make good food, Nagini will like her. Wait, Nagini.”

Voldemort, who was coiled in the haystack, raised his hand upon hearing this, excitedly rising to his feet and flicking his tongue.

"Wait a while. Until they all arrive. Oh, and don't forget your father and Sparkle. Good heavens, I really like your little elf, Barty. It's so much more comfortable having him around than in the Albanian forest. Ah, and our old friend. How could I forget? I think it must be a gift from Clona. I didn't ask her to do it; it must have taken her a lot of effort, but I must say, I like the gift, so I can be lenient with her for her previous rudeness."

Little Barty bowed deeply, then eagerly obeyed the order and brought everyone in the cemetery here.

"Harry Potter."

Watching Barty leave, Voldemort's crimson gaze fell on Harry's face again, and he said softly...

"I know you're probably wondering. I'll explain, but be patient. I can tell you something first: you're standing on my father's bones, a stupid, hopeless Muggle, just like your own mother. But they were both useful, weren't they? When you were little, your mother died protecting you, and I killed my father. See how useful he is after he's dead?"

Even Harry could tell that Voldemort was extremely excited; he paced back and forth.

“See that house on the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother was a witch who lived in this village and fell in love with him. But when she revealed her true identity, he abandoned her. My father didn't like magic.”

Harry was indeed somewhat drawn to the Voldemort story, but when Barty Crouch Jr. returned carrying Ron and Hermione and roughly threw their bodies to the ground, Harry's emerald eyes turned bloodshot. He tore at the ropes binding him, desperately whimpering and howling, his heart aching as if it were being stabbed!

“He left her and went back to his Muggle parents before I was born, Potter. My mother died in childbirth, and I grew up in a Muggle orphanage. But I swore to find him and I took my revenge on him, the man who gave me the same name as him. Tom Riddle.”

After Barty left, Voldemort continued, his red eyes scanning back and forth among the graves, but Harry could no longer hear him; he was in tears and struggling to breathe.

Barty Crouch Jr. immediately had Gilgamesh bring his father over. Barty Crouch Jr. seemed to be alive, but only on his last breath. The loyal little elf wept uncontrollably, but dared not heal Barty Crouch Jr., nor take him away, because of Barty Crouch Jr.'s orders, and because of his fear of the Dark Lord.

Karkaroff was still under Harry's petrification charm when he was moved here, but he was trembling all over. Harry had never seen anyone who could move after being petrified, so you can imagine how scared Karkaroff must have been. Harry could understand his fear; Sirius had shared what he had done.

Finally, there was Gabrielle, the first person to die in the graveyard tonight. Looking at the three corpses, Harry was no longer afraid of death; he wanted to die. If he lived, how would he face all of this?

After dropping Gabriel, Barty stopped. He smiled bloodily at his father's face lying on the ground, then gave Flash a vicious look, ordering him to shut up so as not to disturb his master who was lost in his feelings.

“Listen to me, listen to my family history.” Voldemort took a deep breath and said softly, “Ah, I’m a little sentimental. But look, Harry! My real family has returned.”

Clusters of shadows descended from the sky and landed on this hellish place.

Chapter 852 The Malfoy Family's Choice

2024-04-09

Malfoy Manor.

Servants were tending the lush green lawns, white peacocks strolled and pecked at food in the fountain square, and a cool breeze rippled across the lake—it was a peaceful and serene day at Malfoy Manor.

The servants, who were quietly discussing the second match of the Triwizard Tournament, caught sight of the manor's master and mistress strolling by. They immediately shut their mouths and stood respectfully in a row until the Malfoys had passed by and disappeared into the distance. Only then did they relax and continue discussing the warriors they supported.

"I don't understand, honey, why does Fudge want us back on the school board?"

A cloud drifted in from the boundless wilderness, instantly casting a shadow over Malfoy Manor, which had been bathed in bright sunlight. Lucius glanced coldly at the bizarrely shaped cloud, his face expressionless.

"It is obvious that our 'dear' minister is probably very dissatisfied with the status quo."

Narcissa wasn't stupid; her husband's reminder immediately brought her to her senses.

"You mean, the ministry is preparing to intervene more forcefully in Hogwarts?"

“It’s obvious. We all know that Fudge only cares about power, and the overly assertive Blaine is clearly a threat to him. I believe Blaine is also aware of this, but he doesn’t care—”

Malfoy's lips twitched, revealing a fleeting, ambiguous smile.

"Because of the attack on that little girl warrior, Blaine dismissed Umbridge from her position in the Transport Department with just a few words. Fudge didn't realize it at the time, but we all know how furious he was afterwards. The conflict was bound to escalate sooner or later."

“But getting involved in their struggle isn’t in our interest, is it, my dear?” Narcissa said calmly.

Faced with his wife's questioning, Lucius did not immediately offer his opinion this time. He stopped in his tracks, gazing at the ancient, magnificent, and spectacular manor, a look of worry creeping onto his brow.

It's time to make a choice again.

Lucius didn't believe Blaine would fail. This guy was practically Dumbledore without his hypocrisy. He would never give up his greatest advantage—his extraordinary magical skills. If he fell behind in the fight, Blaine would very likely assassinate Cornelius Fudge without leaving a trace.

His long-term observations made him realize that Dumbledore's control over Blaine was not as great as he had imagined. Therefore, Blaine was very likely to resolve the issue by force in the end. After all, reputation and power were still weaker than absolute force.

But Lucius also believes that Blaine will not do that unless absolutely necessary, and before that, a major upheaval is already beginning to unfold.

The Malfoy family's business spans the European magical world, which is inseparable from the long-standing support of the Ministry. If the Ministry of Magic, led by Fudge, believes that it is not on his side, then the family's business will undoubtedly be in turmoil.

How to achieve a win-win situation is what Malfoy has been thinking about these past few days.

Seeing her husband deep in thought, Narcissa's eyes softened. She was about to offer some words of comfort when she was startled to see her husband's previously somber face turn deathly pale in an instant, and his familiar gray eyes were filled with fear.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Narcissa immediately supported her swaying husband and asked with great concern, but Lucius did not give any answer. His gaze shifted downwards, staring intently at the arm that Narcissa was supporting.

"impossible"

After a brief moment of confusion, Narcissa came to her senses. Her face was deathly pale, and she staggered back a few steps. After shaking her head in disbelief for a few seconds, Narcissa rushed forward again. She pulled open the sleeve that Lucius dared not touch, exposing his arm to the air!