I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 330 At the top of Azkaban Tower!

Voldemort's body disintegrated in full view of everyone, as if it had been cut through a laser corridor.

It was neatly divided into pieces of minced meat.

Then it fell into the water.

Suddenly, the water in the crucible boiled even more vigorously.

The steam grew thicker, and the surrounding fog became even denser, blurring the figures of the Death Eaters tending the flames.

At this point, the Death Eater finally spoke, "Your father's bones, donated unintentionally, can give your son a second life."

From a package that appeared out of nowhere on the ground, a rib floated up.

"Splash!" It fell into the water.

The mercury-like liquid surface cracked, hissing and sparks flying. Some of the viscous liquid suddenly turned bright red and blue, clearly indicating that it was poisonous.

Then, the Death Eater looked at Peter Pettigrew.

Peter, who was holding Miss Granger bound, looked on with great excitement.

He pulled a long, thin, gleaming silver dagger from his pocket, his voice trembling and distorted.

"The flesh of your servant is donated voluntarily, so that your master may be reborn."

He extended his right hand, then gripped the dagger tightly with his left hand and swung it towards his right hand.

—Amidst painful screams and gasps, with a nauseating thud, the dagger fell to the ground, and then his left hand fell into the crucible.

On the open ground, only painful gasps and groans echoed in the air.

The Death Eater beside the cauldron didn't even glance at Peter, seemingly unconcerned even as the blood gushing from Peter's severed arm stained his robes.

To be able to offer flesh and blood in the Dark Lord's ritual is an honor, a reward for Peter's accomplishment of something.

Others don't even qualify for this honor!

He slowly picked up the dagger from the ground, staggered over to Harry, and said, "The blood of your enemy, if forced upon you, can bring your foe back to life."

Harry struggled desperately, trying to break free of the ropes binding him.

But he had no choice; he was bound too tightly.

They could only watch helplessly.

Through his slits, he saw a gleaming silver dagger trembling in the man's single hand in front of him, poised to stab him.

Harry couldn't move and could only watch helplessly as the other person moved.

The next second, he felt the tip of the dagger pierce his arm, and in the excruciating pain, blood flowed down his torn sleeve.

The man excitedly pulled a small glass bottle from his pocket and placed it next to Harry's wound.

A small amount of fresh blood flowed into the bottle.

Instead of returning to the crucible, he went straight to Miss Granger.

"Ancient flesh and blood can gather the power of the gods into one body, making you even greater!" he said frantically, almost shouting it out with all his might.

He approached Miss Granger, knife in hand, like a fanatical follower of some cult.

Sharp swords sliced ​​across her slender arms.

Hermione endured the pain without uttering a word. After Peter collapsed, she was restrained by Lockhart, who also took her wand.

"What a coincidence, little fan." Lockhart at this moment was nothing like the bright and cheerful girl he was in his second year.

During his two years in Azkaban, he suffered more physical and mental torment than he had in his entire life.

At this moment, his face was sallow, his hair was dry, and his eyes were sunken, like a madman who had gone mad, as he grabbed Hermione by the neck from behind.

"I remember you used to idolize me." He glared at Hermione and the young wizards around her with a ferocious expression.

He was more furious about his disgrace in the wizarding world than about Azkaban's torment.

This was worse than death for him. The thought of going from a high-ranking, respected, and famous wizard to a complete fraud filled him with boundless malice.

He wants revenge! Because all of this is thanks to those Hogwarts wizards.

Damn Hogwarts, damn Dumbledore, and those professors, those students, they all deserve to die, damn them!

"I've been blind too," Miss Granger said through gritted teeth, a self-deprecating tone.

She was truly blind to what happened before!

She had always thought that Lockhart's books were all based on his true story. Good heavens—think about it, a person who has been to so many places in the world, experienced so many dangers, and yet always managed to escape—such legendary stories kept happening to one person, anyone would admire him.

Only his despicable methods... At that time, she had just come into contact with the magical world, how could she think so much?

"Heh." Lockhart grinned menacingly, then said, "It's alright, I'll be famous again soon, and this time it will be my own story."

"Heh—" Hermione gave a weak laugh.

Honestly, she didn't have the energy to argue with this stray dog.

The weakness emanating from all parts of her body, along with the pain in her arm, dripped onto the ground, staining her entire arm red with blood. Finally, the boy's sudden appearance, coupled with the intense emotional shifts, left her mind in a state of extreme exhaustion.

I felt drowsy, and my vision even started to darken.

On the other side, the man had returned to the crucible. He poured the two kinds of blood into it, and instantly the liquid in the crucible turned into a dazzling white, viscous white liquid with a fishy stench.

The man completed his task and stepped aside.

Before him, the crucible was boiling violently, and diamond-like sparks flew outwards, so bright and dazzling.

"Bring it up," he suddenly said.

Then, from the steps on the other side of the tower, countless people of all kinds—or rather, Muggles—came out.

Their hands and feet were bound together with iron chains, and they were driven around like slaves.

Panic, fear, and crying were the themes for these people.

A group of over a hundred terrified eyes, men and women of all ages, were scrutinizing this evil place.

For some reason, they couldn't speak, not even whimper.

A closer look reveals that these people's mouths seem to be sealed shut by magic.

Then, a group of people were forcibly bound by the Death Eaters and forced to kneel beside the cauldron.

This scene is strikingly similar to the ritual performed by a group of pure-blooded madmen in the Middle Ages.

Miss Granger, who witnessed all of this, knew perfectly well that this was some kind of bloody ritual being performed.

Those fairies did it too.

They were trying to transfer ancient magic by communicating with the outer gods through sacrifice.

This time—Hermione immediately understood.

Voldemort saw her as the inheritor of ancient magic.

this.

Why do fairies and Voldemort both think they are the inheritors of ancient magic?

Although she has certainly made a splash this year, she doesn't believe she has shown any talent in ancient magic that surpasses Owen's.

Hermione couldn't understand it.

The sacrificial ceremony in front of us has already continued.

The Muggles, like grass in the wind, were all facing the same direction in a whirlwind of souls, their mouths agape hysterically, as if something was trying to burst out of the cauldron.

The people, their livers and gallbladders shattered, had their bodies turned into mummies in less than a few seconds. After nothing could be extracted from their flesh, a transparent, pale white figure was sucked out from their mouths and noses.

That—is their soul.

"God—"

All the young wizards present closed their eyes tightly; such an evil scene was probably hard to find even in the most historical records.

That scream, emanating from the depths of one's soul, sent chills down one's spine.

Fear arises spontaneously; it is a biological instinct.

"boom!"

The flames in the crucible burned even brighter.

The eerie green light illuminated the surroundings.

This is like a pot of poison brewed by hellish imps.

Suddenly, all the sparks on the crucible went out.

A plume of white steam rose from the crucible, merging with the surrounding mist and obscuring everything.

The senses were dulled and rendered useless, and the unsettling mystery grew stronger and stronger, a feeling that sent chills down one's spine.

Through the thick white mist, they saw a man's black figure slowly rising from the crucible.

He was tall and thin, like a skeleton, with pale and eerie skin.

"Dress me!" the cold, shrill voice said from behind the steam.

The Death Eater beside him scrambled to his feet and frantically pulled a black robe from his robes, putting it over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, put on his clothes, and stared intently at Harry and Hermione with his red eyes.

Then everyone saw that hideous face.

He was paler than a skeleton, with two large, bloodshot eyes, a flat nose like a snake's, and nostrils that were just two thin slits...

Oh my God!

Voldemort has regained his full strength.

This thought crossed everyone's mind, from the young wizards to the Death Eaters.

Voldemort then shifted his gaze from Harry and Hermione to examine his own body.

His hands were like pale, large spiders, his slender, pale fingers caressing his body, inch by inch…

His movements were slow, delicate, and gentle, covering his thighs, chest, arms, and face.

Those red eyes shone even brighter in the darkness, their pupils like two slits, like a cat's eyes.

After slowly touching his entire face, he raised his hands, wiggled his fingers, and looked ecstatic.

The atmosphere was eerie and quiet, and time seemed to drag on endlessly.

Everyone held their breath, staring at Voldemort with excitement, fear, or hatred.

"Master." It was Peter Pettigrew.

He covered his mutilated hand.

Voldemort lowered his gaze like a king and glanced at him.

Then she raised her wand and waved it in the air. A streak of light, like molten silver, appeared on the tip of the wand. At first, it had no shape, but then the streak of light twisted and turned into a glittering human hand, as bright as moonlight.

It flew down on its own and automatically pressed itself onto Peter's bleeding wrist.

It fit his arm perfectly, as if he were wearing a dazzling glove.

Peter tried to bend his gleaming fingers, and then tremblingly picked up a stone from the ground and crushed it into powder.

"My master!" he whispered, "Thank you, merciful master!"

Then he crawled over on his knees and kissed Voldemort's robes.

"Those who serve Voldemort will be rewarded, and you deserve it, Peter!" Voldemort said. "Although you are more of a hindrance than a help, you did a decent job at one thing."

"Oh! Thank you, it's all thanks to Master's excellent judgment. I was just carrying out his orders." Peter Pettigrew humbled himself greatly.

After subtly flattering him.

Then they quietly left.

Suddenly, Voldemort pointed his wand at the pile of things on the ground, and they flew high into the air and landed in front of Harry.

These are his father's ashes, one of the necessities for his resurrection, but now they are completely useless.

Voldemort's gaze fell on Harry again, his snake-like face contorting into a cruel smile.

"Harry Potter, we meet again!"

He said in a soft, hissing voice, "These bones... they once belonged to my father, a Muggle and a fool, just like your own mother. But they were all useful, weren't they? When you were little, your mother died protecting you, and I killed my father. See how useful he was after his death..."

"Although we've met several times, it seems we've never introduced ourselves," Voldemort chuckled again, pacing back and forth while scanning his surroundings.

“My mother was a witch. She fell in love with him, with that Muggle, but when she revealed her identity, he abandoned her. My father didn’t like magic!” Voldemort said softly. “Like all foolish Muggles, he left her and went back to his Muggle parents before I was born.”

Voldemort's cold voice echoed in the open space, and Harry listened silently, his body tense.

The scar on his head kept hurting, as if it was tearing him apart.

But he still gritted his teeth and protected Gabriel and Cho Chang behind him.

He realized that it was all because of him; these young wizards had been dragged into this trouble because of him.

Voldemort continued pacing back and forth, seemingly in a good mood, reminiscing about his past.

"My father abandoned us, my mother died in childbirth, and I grew up in a Muggle orphanage, so I swore to find him," Voldemort said. "Later, I took my revenge on him, the man who gave me the same name as him, Tom Riddle..."

When he spoke of that name, his tone carried an undisguised chill and disgust.

"It's a name that shames me, it belongs to that man!" Voldemort said, his voice growing softer, his cruel smile widening. "But it will end. This shame left me with my father, destroyed by my own hands. Ha ha, Harry Potter, you have the honor of hearing me, hearing me recount my family history… Ah, I'm getting a little sentimental, but look, Harry! My real family has returned!"

More and more Death Eaters gathered around.

They were all wearing hoods and their faces were covered.

It's conceivable that all the dark wizards of Azkaban joined his side.

In addition, he has been spreading fear outside for the past year.

Harry was suddenly startled. He couldn't imagine how many Death Eaters there were now, but based on what he could see, there were at least several dozen.

This is certainly not all.

Harry isn't stupid; it's impossible for all the Death Eaters to gather in Azkaban.

Elsewhere, in some key places, there must be their people, just as he saw in Dumbledore's memories, Voldemort's men were in some positions in the Ministry of Magic, relaying messages to him.

The Death Eaters around him grinned sinisterly.

This sent chills down the spines of the young wizards.

"Times have changed, Potter! Times have changed!"

Voldemort looked at Harry, who was trembling with pain, with a mocking expression, while still protecting Cho Chang and Gabrielle.

A hint of disgust flashed in his eyes.

Next—the piercing wrist bone!

"ah--"

Qiu Zhang and Gabrielle let out a scream.

The two women were writhing in agony, screaming in agony, their voices sending chills down one's spine.

"Stop! Stop!!!" Harry yelled, drawing his wand to retaliate, but the Death Eaters who were binding him had already wisely released him.

The instant Voldemort regained his power.

"I didn't hear you clearly," he said. "Are you asking me to continue?"

Voldemort laughed maniacally, and the Cruciatus Curse in his hand became even stronger.

Harry unleashed a disarming spell, but it was useless as Voldemort easily deflected it. He was then struck by his own spell and collapsed helplessly to the ground.

"Oh! So excited? It seems my servant has also brought along the famous Harry Potter's girlfriend?"

He said cruelly.

The Death Eaters around him immediately joined in with bursts of laughter.

"Is it this one?" He intensified the magic he was casting on Cho Chang. "Or is it this silver-haired girl?" He then intensified the magic on Gabrielle.

"Stop!"

"Stop right now!!!"

On the other side, Fleur and Cedric watched in horror as the two girls were being tortured.

Fleur's eyes reddened, and she kept cursing Voldemort in English mixed with French.

If the Cruciatus Curse is used on a wizard for an extended period of time, it will destroy a person's soul and will, and there will be no cure after that.

This is common knowledge.

However, it was clear that Voldemort had no interest in either of them.

Look at yourself now!

With a casual wave of his hand, Voldemort conjured stone chains from the marble floor, which then hoisted Harry up.

"Just like your useless father! Or like your filthy mud-blooded mother, I don't know, they both knelt down and begged me not to kill their only son—you must understand, I can't tell the difference between worms."

Of course, now—you can also learn from your parents and kneel down to beg for mercy from the great Voldemort, and I will mercifully grant your request.

"My parents are heroes!" Harry screamed, his voice vain, the marble chains slowly tightening around his neck, the feeling of suffocation intense, yet he still bravely stared straight at Tom. "They won't beg you for mercy!"

You pathetic creature, you'll never understand what love is!

Harry stared intently, his bloodshot eyes wide.

His combination of anger and courage makes him fearless even when facing the most evil dark wizard of the day.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Voldemort grinned menacingly.

His eyes were filled with flickering flames.

He has lost patience.

Now, he's going to kill Harry Potter for good!

He completely silenced the wizards who questioned his power!

(End of this chapter)