HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Suddenly, Insect Tail raised its tear-streaked face, groaning softly, trying to seize this only possible opportunity, "I have been... searching for you, only I... Master... please, for the sake of my loyalty..."

Voldemort finally lowered his head and turned his gaze to the insect tail at his feet, his eyes filled with undisguised mockery.

“Wormtail,” he said coldly, “you’ve come back to me not out of loyalty, but because you’re afraid of your ‘dear’ old friends, aren’t you? Afraid of Black… and Lupin, aren’t you?”

"Ah! No! Master! I am loyal... of course I am loyal..."

The insect tail frantically tried to explain, "It was because of my loyalty to you that I... that I returned to your side..."

"lie."

Voldemort looked at Wormtail sobbing on the ground and said coldly, "But even though you are a despicable traitor, you did help me gain a physical body. Voldemort will not let down those who have helped him, no matter how insignificant the help or how vile the motive..."

He raised the yew wand and gracefully swung it in the air, the tip tracing a smooth and intricate path.

A hand-shaped beam of light, shimmering like mercury, was outlined, with clearly defined knuckles and even simulated palm lines.

It flew down lightly and landed precisely on the insect's wrist, where its tail was still bleeding.

The insect's sobbing abruptly stopped.

He suddenly raised his head, staring incredulously at the new limbs he had just acquired.

The silver hand fits perfectly into his severed wrist, with smooth lines and a cold, hard luster unique to metal, as if he were born wearing a perfectly fitting, exquisitely crafted metal glove.

He trembled as he tried to bend his gleaming fingers, the movements gradually becoming smoother from awkward.

He groped his way to a dry twig on the ground, his silver fingers gently closing—

"Crack..."

The withered twig was instantly crushed into powder, which fell through his fingers.

A look of wild joy instantly erupted on the insect's tail face.

"My master..."

His voice choked with emotion, filled with gratitude, "Master...you are so perfect...so powerful...thank you...thank you for your grace!"

He crawled over and kissed Voldemort's robe hem again.

"I hope this hand will always remind you..." Voldemort said with a half-smile, "so that your loyalty will not be easily shaken, Wormtail."

"Of course, my master! Never, I swear!"

Insect Tail hurriedly assured him, then suddenly raised his head, a strange light flashing in his eyes, and tentatively added:

"If... if you, Master, could have mercy and help me regain the magic that was taken from me..."

"Ah, I almost forgot—" Voldemort chuckled, as if he had just remembered something, and pointed his wand at Bugtail again.

An uncontrollable smile instantly bloomed on Insect Tail's face, ready to receive the blessing. "Great master, you are truly...you are truly omnipotent."

Avada Kedavra!

A flash of green light streaked across the sky, and the insect's tail fell straight to the ground. The circle of Death Eaters trembled violently, as if the green light had struck their hearts at the same time.

Voldemort expressionlessly put away his wand, a deep disgust flashing in his eyes.

Ignoring the corpse of the insect tail, he raised his head, his crimson gaze, like a searchlight, slowly sweeping across the black circle formed by the Death Eaters.

His gaze lingered on the gaps between the crowd, carefully identifying the empty spaces where people should have been, before his expression gradually darkened.

He strode towards a clearly visible empty space.

“The Lestranges should be standing here,” he said coldly. “They’re imprisoned in Azkaban. They’re loyal. They’d rather be in Azkaban than betray me…”

He walked to the next empty seat, his voice growing even colder, "This should have been Avery's..."

"This should be McNeil..."

"This is Selwyn..."

"here it is……"

He called out the names of the absent students one by one, and with each name he called out, the muscles on his pale face tensed up a little more, and the air around him seemed to freeze a little.

That sinister anger condensed around him, almost turning into a tangible black mist.

“So many Death Eaters haven’t come,” his face grew increasingly grim. “Even Crabbe and Goyle… those two guys who should have come like loyal dogs the moment they heard the commotion, they haven’t shown up…”

His gaze was like a cold chain, firmly locked onto a Death Eater wearing an exquisite silver mask in the front row of the crowd.

The man stood ramrod straight, and even under Voldemort's terrifying gaze, he did not tremble noticeably like the others.

“Lucius, my cunning friend…”

Voldemort called softly, asking each word slowly and deliberately, "Can you tell me why so many of my former 'trusted' companions have chosen to be absent from this gathering tonight?"

All eyes were focused on the silver mask.

In the suffocating silence, the named "Lucius" did not prostrate himself on the ground and frantically defend himself as everyone expected.

Instead, he did something that surprised all the Death Eaters, and even Voldemort—

He raised his hand, calmly unfastened the clasp securing the mask, and then gently removed the silver mask that concealed his face.

Beneath the mask was a calm face.

His gaze met Voldemort's eyes, which burned with anger and suspicion, and his steady voice echoed clearly in the silent graveyard:

"Because they can't come."

He said, "Because some of them were killed by me, some were drained of their magic by me, and as for the rest... they realized their mistake and voluntarily left your ridiculous Death Eater team."

Chapter 376 Trash Talk Section

When Harry saw the face behind the silver mask, his heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

Professor Greengrass!

How did he end up here?

Countless questions instantly filled Harry's mind, making him temporarily forget his predicament.

Not only him, but also a suppressed murmur of surprise and doubt rose from the surrounding Death Eater crowd.

These followers who responded to the call of the Black Mark never expected that a daring imposter was lurking among them.

The faces under the hoods looked at each other, then raised their wands and assumed an attack stance.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s expression changed drastically, and he was about to step forward and subdue the uninvited guest almost immediately, but Voldemort raised his hand to stop him.

The snake-like face showed no expression, but its scarlet eyes narrowed dangerously as it looked Sagrais up and down.

Silence spread among the crowd.

finally--

"We meet again, Sagres."

Voldemort broke the silence, his voice maintaining a chilling calm, "You have more courage than I thought. To dare to infiltrate our gathering and stand so brazenly before me."

The chilling killing intent in his words made the surrounding temperature drop sharply. "I really don't know whether to call you arrogant, or utterly stupid... or perhaps both?"

Sagres casually tossed the exquisite silver mask to the ground, making a crisp clanging sound.

His face looked as calm as Voldemort's, and his deep eyes slowly swept over the faces hidden under the hoods around him before finally settling back on Voldemort.

“Perhaps,” Sagrais said softly. “I’m mainly curious… curious how many people, after all these years, after feeling your call again, will wisely choose not to come—”

He paused for a second, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "...and how many people will be foolish enough to choose to come back?"

These words were like an invisible whip, lashing at the hearts of every Death Eater present, causing a stir of unease.

Voldemort stared silently at Sargeras, then suddenly let out a cold, short chuckle.

“Professor Greengrass,” Voldemort said, adopting a feigned respectful posture, but his tone was full of sarcasm, “you don’t think I’m as weak and powerless as you were when we last met, do you?”

He took a step forward and stood face to face with Sagres. "If you really think that, you are very wrong, because at this moment, I have reclaimed my own power!"

"is it?"

Sagres responded calmly, then casually straightened his sleeves.

“But I can’t see any difference,” he said.

Under Voldemort's somber gaze, Sagres seemed to suddenly remember something and let out a soft "Ah," "Of course... it's not entirely the same. For example, your monstrous appearance is something I've never seen before."

Voldemort's expression remained unchanged as he began to slowly pace around Sargeras, his robes trailing softly on the grass: "To achieve great things, it's only natural to pay a small price."

Sagres chuckled. "Including 'great' achievements that tear your soul to pieces?"

Voldemort chuckled sinisterly, his voice rising higher and higher: "Mortals, throughout their lives, can only cower in the shell of fate, accomplishing nothing! But I, Voldemort, can use my supreme wisdom and power to...create a body for myself!"

He spun around in place, displaying his new body to Sagrais, "Behold! This is the authority only a god should possess—"

Sagles examined it carefully for a moment, then shook his head regretfully: "I only see a poorly made defective product."

Voldemort's patience finally ran out. His pale fingers slowly tightened their grip on his wand, and his scarlet eyes revealed a murderous intent.

"Are these your last words, Sagres?"

The temperature in the air plummeted, as if a layer of frost had formed. The Death Eaters around them retreated in unison, creating a vacuum.

"Hold on."

Sagles raised a hand, his voice as calm as if he were asking a question in class.

Voldemort paused slightly, a mocking smile curving his lips.

"What, finally feeling fear, Professor?" His voice was full of mockery. "It's a little too late to beg for mercy now."

Sagrass simply shook his head slightly, his gaze slowly sweeping over the faces hidden under the hoods around him, finally settling on the bound Harry.

"Before we begin, I just want to ask one question."

His voice carried clearly throughout every corner of the cemetery, "Besides Harry Potter, is there anyone else who wants to leave?"

A deathly silence fell.

Then, Voldemort let out a chilling laugh that echoed eerily among the tombstones: "Look at them, Sacramento! These loyal servants, having chosen to return to my side, will never leave again. As for Harry Potter..."

He turned to Harry, his wand pointed directly at the boy's heart: "He can't leave either, of course, because he must face death in front of everyone, as a warning to those who still harbor illusions..."