94 Diagon Alley

It was silent. "Is that part of the game too?"

"I don't know," Cedric said, his voice a little nervous. "Pull out your wand, what do you think?"

"Okay." Harry was glad Cedric said it first.

They drew their wands and Harry glanced around. He had that strange feeling again, as if someone was watching them.

For some reason, Harry felt the environment was very familiar, so he slipped his hand into the inside of his robes, where Sirius helped Harry hide before the game.

"Someone's coming," he said suddenly. Then hold tightly to the silky cloak in his arms.

They narrowed their eyes nervously into the darkness, and a figure walked towards them step by step between the graves. Harry couldn't make out the man's face, but from the gait and the posture of his arms, it looked like the man was holding something. He wore a hooded cloak over his face. Taking a few steps closer - the distance between them was shrinking and Harry could see that the man was holding something like a baby - or just a bag of clothes?

Harry lowered his wand a little. He looked at Cedric, who also gave him a questioning glance. The two squatted and hid behind a tombstone, staring at the approaching figure.

The black figure stood before a towering marble tombstone only six feet from them. One more step forward, and the man was about to meet Harry and Cedric.

Suddenly, Harry's scar was in severe pain. He had never felt such severe pain in his life. The wand slid to the ground, he covered his face with his hands, his legs fell to the ground, nothing could be seen in front of him, and his head seemed to explode.

He heard someone say aloud and grimly far above his head: "He's behind the tombstone."

Harry realized for a moment what he might be facing—or who might be. The strength and speed that burst out from nowhere overcame the pain of the torn scar, and suddenly pulled out the invisibility cloak in his arms and covered it over Cedric. He held down the Hufflepuff warriors, and before he could say a word, a red light shot fiercely at the tombstone in front of them. Stones fell on Harry's body, one of which appeared to hit Cedric's head, and the boy lost consciousness.

The short man in the cloak had already put down his baggage, lit his wand, and dragged Harry towards the marble tombstone. Harry saw a name in the flickering light of his wand, before being shoved over and slammed his back against the tombstone.

Tom Riddle

The man in the cape used magic to conjure ropes that tied Harry tightly to the tombstone, from neck to ankle.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, struggling.

The man did not answer, he had finished tying the rope. His fingers trembled uncontrollably, groping for the knots. He gagged Harry's mouth when he was sure Harry was bound so tightly he couldn't move. Then, without saying a word, he hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound and couldn't see where the man had gone. He couldn't turn his head to look behind the tombstone, he could only see the scene straight ahead.

The fainted Cedric lay twenty feet away. A little further on, the Triwizard Cup gleamed in the starlight. Harry's wand was dropped at Cedric's feet. The bundle that Harry guessed was the baby was nearby, under the grave. It seems restless. Harry stared at it, his scar burning hot again... He suddenly realized he didn't want to see what was in the bag... He didn't want the bag to open.

He heard voices at his feet, and when he looked down, he saw a large snake meandering in the grass, circling around his tombstone. Harry instinctively didn't want the snake to find Cedric, and although he didn't want to admit it, his former adversary might be his only hope now. So he kept struggling to get the snake's attention to focus on himself. The short Death Eater--now Harry knew who his master was--the servant's wheezing gasps resumed, he seemed to be pushing something heavy--a huge cauldron full of water-- Harry heard splashes. This cauldron was bigger than any cauldron Harry had ever used, and could hold an adult sitting in it.

The things in the bag on the ground moved more vigorously, as if to break free. The Death Eaters were busy dabbling at the bottom of the cauldron with their wands. Suddenly there was a crackling flame from under the cauldron. The serpent swam into the darkness.

Harry heard the sharp, cold voice again.

"Quick!"

The entire surface of the water is now full of sparks, as if studded with diamonds.

"It's done, master."

"Now..." said the grim voice.

The Death Eater tore off the bag on the ground to reveal the contents. Harry let out a scream, but was choked by the stuff in his mouth.

There was a slimy, eyeless ugly thing in the bag - no, it was scarier than that, a hundred times scarier. The thing that the Death Eaters carried looked like a crouched baby. It had no hair, and it seemed to have scales on its body. The skin was dark and red, like tender flesh that had been injured. Its arms and legs were thin and soft, and its face—no living child had such a face—was a flat snake face with gleaming red eyes.

Harry saw the look of disgust on his pale, feeble face in the firelight. The Death Eaters carried the thing to the edge of the cauldron, and for a split second Harry saw the throbbing spray on the surface of the potion illuminate the evil flat face. He put the thing into the cauldron, and it sank with a hiss. Harry heard the soft sound of its limp body hitting the bottom of the cauldron.

Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost unbearably, please...let it drown...

The Death Eater was speaking, his voice trembling, excited and excited. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky, "Father's bones, donated inadvertently, can regenerate your son!"

The grave under Harry's feet cracked open, and Harry was horrified to see a small wisp of dust rising into the air at the wizard's call, falling gently into the cauldron. The diamond-like liquid surface cracked, hissed, sparks flew, and the liquid turned a bright red blue, poisonous at first sight.

The Death Eater whimpered in happiness. From his cloak he drew a long, thin, silvery dagger. "The flesh of the servant--donated voluntarily, may regenerate--your master-."

He stretched out his right hand, then grabbed the dagger tightly in his left hand and swung it towards his right hand.

Harry didn't realize what this man was doing at the last second, he closed his eyes tightly, but couldn't stop the scream that penetrated the night sky straight into Harry's body, as if He was also stabbed with a dagger. He heard something fall to the ground, he heard the Death Eater gasp in pain but pleasure, followed by a disgusting thud of something being thrown into the cauldron. Harry didn't want to look at it... but the potion turned fiery red and a strong light shot into Harry's closed eyes...

"The blood of the enemy... is forced to give... to bring your enemy... back to life." The Death Eater had walked up to him, it was an ugly, hideous middle-aged wizard, ha Leigh was sure she had never seen him.

Harry struggled desperately, trying to break free from the ropes that bound him, and through the slits of his eyes he saw the silver dagger trembling in the Death Eater's single hand. He felt the tip of the dagger pierce his arm, and blood dripped down the torn sleeve of his robe. The servant took out a small glass bottle from his pocket and placed it next to Harry's wound, and a small amount of blood flowed into the bottle.

He staggered towards the cauldron with Harry's blood and poured it into it. The liquid in the crucible immediately turned blinding white. The Death Eater had done his job, staring at the cauldron regardless of his severed arm, sobbing excitedly.

The cauldron was about to boil, and diamond-like sparks flew out, so bright and dazzling that everything around them turned a black velvet color.

Suddenly, the spark on the crucible went out. A white vapor rose from the crucible. Then, through the white fog in front of him, he saw horribly the black figure of a man slowly rising from the cauldron, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

"Cloth me," said the cold, shrill voice behind the steam. The Death Eater shivered to his feet and put one hand over his Master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron and stared at Harry... Harry saw the face that had been in his nightmares for three years, paler than a skeleton, with big red eyes and a nose Flat like a snake's nose, the nostrils are two thin slits...

Voldemort is resurrected.

"Stretch out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh, Master...Thank you, Master..."

He stretched out his **** broken arm, but Voldemort sneered again, "Not this one, Avery."

Voldemort bent down, pulled the Death Eater's left arm, and rolled his sleeve over his elbow. Harry saw something on the skin that looked like a bright red pattern—a skeleton spewing a snake out of its mouth, the same pattern that had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort looked at it carefully.

"It's back," he said softly, "and they'll all notice it...now, we'll see...we'll know..."

He put his long, pale index finger on Avery's arm.

Harry's forehead hurt again, and Voldemort pulled his finger from the mark