The Bard of Hogwarts

Chapter 343 Barty's Memories, Voldemort's Resurrection

Eighth floor, principal's office.

The walls are covered with portraits of past principals.

Each painting seems to be a microcosm of a magical story.

They hang silently in the room, sometimes recounting their past legends and glories, sometimes pretending to sleep and snore...

But no matter what, they remain unmoved by external storms.

At that moment, all the portraits remained perfectly silent, watching the two people in the office with curiosity.

……

in the room.

A wisp of silver, ribbon-like thread floated into the Pensieve.

After obtaining Barty's consent, Dumbledore also bent down to examine the other's past memories.

Time passed, second by second.

It seems like a long time has passed.

When Dumbledore stood up again, his face was no longer calm, and his expression had become serious.

"He's just being so reckless..."

Compared to Dumbledore's seriousness, Barty's eyes flashed with fear and horror.

"He... he really came back to life?"

The fragments of memory almost overturned Old Barty's understanding.

A person who was confirmed dead was miraculously resurrected through ritual magic... and he even contributed to the power of this magic.

"Albus! Everyone needs to know this! We must prepare in advance..."

Barty the Elder spoke with a hint of anxiety, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore's wave of his hand halfway through his sentence.

"Let me think about it... Please sit quietly for a while."

After Dumbledore finished speaking, he fell into an almost ethereal state.

The scene I just remembered was Voldemort completing his resurrection ritual through the blood that Barty was forced to offer, the flesh that Barty Jr. voluntarily offered, and the skeleton of his Muggle father.

Unveiling the Secrets of Cutting-Edge Black Magic

Dumbledore opened the drawer, and the black-covered magic book lay peacefully inside.

As the headmaster of Hogwarts and a legendary wizard of the 20th century, Dumbledore had a thorough understanding of Horcruxes, from their creation and resurrection to their actual use.

Blood, flesh, bones... almost reshaping a new body, infusing the soul into the Horcrux, thus completing the resurrection.

Dumbledore knew, but he believed Voldemort knew even more.

Especially after suffering two losses at the hands of Harry, the choice to resurrect him should lean more towards Harry.

After all, only those with the same bloodline as Harry could confuse Lily's ancient protective magic.

Otherwise, given Voldemort's personality, he would never have left such an obvious flaw; otherwise, Harry would have been his natural nemesis.

However, after reading Barty's memories, Dumbledore felt that he must have overlooked something.

His long-standing plan to protect Harry and wait for him to come to him seems to have had no effect whatsoever.

"Why would he do that..." Dumbledore murmured to himself.

Old Barty's memories brought him a long-lost sense of bewilderment.

……

At the same time.

The northernmost point of England, 140 kilometers from the coast.

On a deserted island made entirely of reefs, a voice filled with the same doubt as Dumbledore's echoed from a weathered lighthouse.

"Master! I don't understand why you let him go. I have nothing to do with him anymore."

Young Barty felt somewhat ashamed, as he could have killed Old Barty to eliminate any future troubles, but in the end he chose to erase his memory instead.

All of this led him to subconsciously believe that it was because of him that Old Barty was able to survive.

Thinking of this, Little Barty's expression became even more respectful.

……

In front of Little Barty sat a terrifying figure with a distorted and pale face, as if long corrupted by darkness and curse.

His scarlet eyes, filled with cruelty and murderous intent, his flat, snake-like nose, and the cold, eerie smile on his lips always sent chills down one's spine.

"Little Barty! My child..."

A refined London accent rang out, and Voldemort first glanced at the tea on the table, then his gaze shifted to Barty's mutilated hand.

Upon hearing the call, Barty, who had been standing to the side, instantly prostrated himself at Voldemort's feet.

"I initially thought everything was broken, but then I discovered... beyond the brokenness, there is true wholeness!"

Voldemort reached out and patted Barty's messy hair as if petting a pet.

"Master?" Little Barty looked up in confusion.

"Shh!" Voldemort held up a finger, making a shushing gesture.

"Very interesting! But I suppose my dear professor is still in the dark."

As if he had really thought of something interesting, Voldemort let out a laugh like an owl.

Although the laughter was chilling, upon closer listening, there was also a hint of reminiscence in the sound.

……

Just like Dumbledore understood Horcruxes and Dark Magic.

As a powerful wizard, Voldemort also knew many of the secrets of magic.

His travels over half a century have exposed him to countless magical and ancient alchemical artifacts, from ancient Egyptian ruins to Mesopotamian sites...

Everything he saw and heard, from small items like a viewing mirror and a sketching quill to large items like a time converter, the relics of the four founders, and even the magic stone he glimpsed, made him feel a sense of incompleteness.

However, only the summer three years ago.

In the corridors of Hogwarts, possessing Quirrell, he saw something very different: the timid Slytherin freshman pulling a die from his pocket…

He had initially thought it was just a child's alchemy toy, but when the other person held the die in their hand, he felt a sense of natural wholeness emanating from it.

……

A complete alchemical artifact, never before seen.

Because no matter how useless something is, as long as it is complete, there must be complete magic and complete rules behind it.

Thinking of this, a hint of regret appeared in Voldemort's crimson eyes.

If I hadn't had expectations for the Philosopher's Stone, if I hadn't been trapped in Hogwarts and unable to escape...

Due to various factors, he missed the best opportunity.

Now, thanks to the Prophet's Daily, he also learned that his once timid students had grown to an absurd degree.

Unconsciously, some images also surfaced in Voldemort's mind, the contents of what was called the movie mirror.

A blue phoenix like a raging fire, a normal orange-red phoenix, a guardian whale twenty feet tall that can carry a wizard...

And the latest reports, the three-way battle for supremacy, figures under the ice and snow.

……

slowly.

As my thoughts drifted away, I gradually returned to the present moment.

Voldemort glanced at Barty beside him. He trusted this servant, but he had no intention of telling him about his plans.

Some things can only truly confuse the wise professor in the castle and lead him to make the wrong judgment if only a few people know them.

"Harry Pott..."

With his distinctive accent, Harry's name once again echoed in the weathered lighthouse.

At the same time.

Upon hearing the name, Little Barty's eyes flashed with hatred.

Without a doubt, he knew his master's plan; Harry Potter was the primary target.

Sitting in the chair, Voldemort could easily see Barty's expression.

Noticing the servant's hateful gaze, a strange smile crept onto his lips.

"My child! You can go back now and continue to contact that student, urging him to stand firmly on our side. It might play an unexpected role at a crucial moment..."

(End of this chapter)