Hogwarts: Oops, I'm Voldemort

"He's calling me!"

Snape opened his sleeves, and the black snake wrapped around the bones wormed its way into the skull's eye sockets as if it were alive. ☜♦

"What do you mean?" Ron didn't understand yet, but Hermione covered her mouth and widened her eyes.

"That's the Dark Mark, something only Death Eaters have!"

She looked at Snape in disbelief. Although no one liked him, not even Harry had thought that Snape was actually a Death Eater. The person he was loyal to was always a mysterious person!

"To correct you, only Death Eaters trusted by the Dark Lord are eligible!" Sirius said sarcastically. This is the truth. Voldemort will not leave the mark of the dark devil on everyone. For example, some werewolves and some wizards who are not worthy of being on the stage are not even servants in his eyes, they are just consumed materials.

But no one bothers with that now.

Snape didn't care about his ridicule. He just looked at Cyrus and waited for Cyrus' decision. Should he return to the Dark Lord's side, or should he continue to stay? Is it a showdown, or is it still hiding?

Cyrus quickly made arrangements for Snape, saying nothing but looking into Snape's eyes.

"You come with us, and then attack me. Of course, I don't think he will let you do it." This sentence rang directly in Snape's mind without anyone hearing it.

What Snape needs now is to show his loyalty to Voldemort. While Dumbledore is not dead, Voldemort needs a spy to stay by Dumbledore's side.

There are not many people who can do this well, and Snape has not yet been exposed.

At least Cyrus had no intention of breaking Dumbledore's arrangement for the time being.

"The problem is how do we find them!" Sirius stamped his feet hard. At this time, a tall figure hurriedly and panicked opened the door of the astronomy tower.

It's Hagrid!

"The Thestrals found Harry's blood in the Forbidden Forest!" He hurried in, almost rolling in, and shouted before he could stand still.

At the same time, several black shadows passed through the sky. They looked like horse bones, but had dragon heads and huge bat wings, like the mounts of the God of Death!

"What?" Hermione looked out doubtfully, but she saw nothing. On the contrary, Ginny and Ron were startled by the Thestral's terrifying appearance.

This kind of special Pegasus can only be seen by those who have seen death.

No one answered for Hermione. Sirius took the lead and rode on the Thestral's back, like a prince on an expedition: "Thestral will lead us to Harry by following the smell of blood!"

So, under the astonished eyes of Hermione and the three of them, they rode on the non-existent Thestral. The horse opened its huge wing membranes that day, and the gusting wind caused the planetary model in the astronomy tower to rotate.

"Wait, we're going too!"

Ginny tightened her wand and took a step forward. She kept looking at Cyrus without giving in at all!

"I can fight against Death Eaters! You taught me how to fight, didn't you?"

After a long time, Cyrus noticed that Ginny had indeed grown taller, her facial features had slowly opened up, and her skin was as white as snow. But in his opinion, he is still just a second-year student.

"We can do it too!" Neither Hermione nor Ron wanted to back away.

"You have to stay in school!" McGonagall said sternly.

Even Sirius did not support their adventure: "What we are facing are the mysterious people and the Death Eaters. They kill without blinking an eye. Boy, this is no joke!"

But neither Hermione nor Ginny nor even Ron paid attention to what they said, but looked straight at Cyrus until Cyrus shook his head.

"no."

Once Voldemort is resurrected, even he is not sure that he can defeat it now. It is impossible for him to take risks with several children.

"It's very late. Now go back to your dormitory. You will see Harry tomorrow morning."

He was almost commanding.

The three children were all a little unconvinced, especially Ginny. She had killed Peter Pettigrew before. Maybe Cyrus underestimated her a little too much?

However, when she looked into Cyrus's eyes, she no longer had any thoughts of resistance in her heart, as if the words Cyrus spoke were an order that could not be refused, a truth that could not be changed!

So she had no choice but to walk towards the door of the Astronomy Tower with her head lowered and her mouth pouted. Before leaving, she looked back with a look of grievance on her face: "Only Harry?"

"And I."

"Bang!" The door closed.

——

"Snapped!"

The air was torn apart, and little Barty emerged from the small black hole with the injured Harry, throwing Harry onto the dirt ground.

Harry was tied up all over and couldn't move, so he could only try his best to look up.

He saw a huge crucible standing on it. The pale and thin wizard who had appeared in the dream had a face full of fear. He was holding a small package in his arms and scratching at the bottom of the crucible with his wand.

A big snake with three heads swam into the darkness.

"You're back, little Barty."

The package in Karkaroff's arms moved and made a harsh sound, like sharp claws scratching the glass, which made Harry feel very uncomfortable.

Then, he saw the thing inside the package sticking its head out, completely exposed - it was a slimy, ugly thing without eyes - it looked like a baby, but it had no hair and had snakes all over its body. Tiny scales, the skin is dark and red, like injured red flesh - he has the face of a snake.

Harry knew immediately that this was Voldemort.

Harry had seen Voldemort in many forms, but none looked more pitiful than he did now, as if he would be strangled to death at any moment.

But he knew that Voldemort at this moment was more dangerous than before. The weakness was just his appearance. Maybe the next moment, the other party would be completely resurrected, and then spread terror in the British wizarding world like a poisonous snake spraying venom!

"It went well, my master!" Little Barty said happily.

"You never disappoint me." Voldemort said excitedly and coldly. His eyes were like two slits, and when they were torn apart, they revealed erect pupils. Being stared at by him, Harry felt a sharp pain in his forehead. Incomparable, blood coagulation!

"It seems that my appearance has frightened the 'Boy Who Lived'." Voldemort paused and said in a very contemptuous tone, as if Harry Potter was just a joke to him, "Well, Harry , let’s catch up on old times later.”

The liquid in the crucible seemed to heat up very quickly. Not only did the surface begin to boil, but sparks shot out, as if it were studded with diamonds.

"The fire is ready, Master." Karkaroff sounded hoarse and weak with a choked throat, as if he had just cried.

His face was full of fear, and even his hands were shaking. Voldemort was not as polite to him as he was to Barty.

"Now, put me in!"

Karkaroff carried Voldemort to the crucible, and the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion illuminated the evil flat face. Karkaroff put him into the cauldron, and the potion instantly submerged Voldemort.

For a moment, Harry almost prayed that Voldemort would be drowned in the potion. But this is so ridiculous. How could Voldemort seek his own death? How could he let his servants harm him?

Karkaroff raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky: "My father's bones, accidentally donated, can regenerate your son!"

Harry was shocked to see a small plume of dust rising from his side, rising into the air at Karkaroff's call, and falling gently into the crucible.

Only then did he realize that there was a corpse lying next to him that had been rotting for many years. Perhaps it was due to the power of magic. It was not completely rotten, but its appearance could not be seen clearly. It smelled like an inferi.

Father's bones?

Is this Voldemort's father?

Is this how he treats his father's body?

Before Harry could think about it, the diamond-like liquid surface in the crucible burst, hissing, sparks flying, and the liquid turned bright blue. Little Barty smiled evilly, grabbed his collar, and led him away. Get to the edge of that crucible!

Little Barty urged Karkaroff:

"Come on, Karkaroff! There's still a pendant!"

Karkaroff quickly opened his sleeve, revealing a palm wrapped with a pendant.

He glanced at Little Barty cringingly, and pulled out a long, thin, shiny silver dagger from his cloak. His voice suddenly became fierce and decisive: "Your servant's flesh - voluntarily donated, can make - your master - reborn."

His words were broken, as the pain left him almost speechless.

The silver dagger cut off his palm like a weed.

Harry's eyes widened, but he had no intention of paying attention to Karkaroff's miserable condition. Because little Barty took the dagger and pressed Harry's head against the edge of the crucible. The hot pot made Harry's skin red, and there was a smelly smoke. The boiling potion almost splashed into his mouth. In the eyes!

"The blood of your enemy, forced to give, can bring your enemy back to life!"

Harry couldn't stop it, he was tied too tightly... He struggled desperately, but felt the tip of the dagger pierce his shoulder blade, and blood flowed down the torn sleeves and into the cauldron.

The liquid in the crucible immediately turned dazzling white. Diamond-like sparks splashed out in all directions, so bright and dazzling that everything around them turned the color of black velvet.

"You have completed your great mission, Harry!" Little Barty screamed excitedly, even happier than the moment he was free! He threw away the dagger in his hand, pulled Harry over, and tightly framed Harry's head with his hands, forcing Harry to witness all this!

"Behold! The great Dark Lord is reborn!"

"He won't succeed!" Harry gritted his teeth.

But Harry's prayers failed.

The spark on the crucible went out. A stream of white steam rose from the cauldron, obscuring everything in front of Harry.

Then, through the white mist in front of him, he saw with horror the black figure of a man rising slowly from the crucible. He was tall and thin, like a skeleton.

The hazy white mist was instantly dyed black by the power of magic, and then turned into a gauze-like material. Finally, it turned into a black robe draped over the skeleton.

The big three-headed snake that wandered around had returned to Voldemort's feet at some point and was crawling.

"You're wrong, Harry."

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

Voldemort is resurrected.

He did not greet Harry immediately, but instead checked his body. Miraculously, he actually pulled out a wand from the conjured robe, and it was the same wand he had used.

"Master!" Little Barty threw Harry to the ground and fell at Voldemort's feet, but he was not kneeling, but more like relying on him, "How do you feel?"

Voldemort closed his scarlet snake eyes, as if he was experiencing the feeling of a body that truly belonged to him: "It's better than ever before——"

After fusing the soul in the pendant, Voldemort did feel that his magical power seemed to have increased a little. It was very small, but it was real!

It's an amazing feeling.

Voldemort has not known what it feels like to have a complete soul since he was in school. He changed himself beyond recognition, but his strength was increasing, because he was far from reaching his prime at that time.

As for now, he has only recovered a little bit of power.

"The only regret is to use the flesh of such a betrayer to resurrect him." He glanced at Karkaroff contemptuously, as if looking at some dirty garbage.

"You should use my meat -" said little Barty immediately.

"Of course not, Barty, I hope you should stay intact!" Voldemort said arrogantly, but with a sense of expectation.

He was barefoot, stepping on the black soil. When he passed by Karkaroff, Karkaroff gave him a pleading look.

"hand!"

Karkaroff's pale face showed joy, and he stretched out his broken hand that was still bleeding, like a person in distress praying to the Lord for salvation.

But Voldemort is not a merciful Lord.

His expression was very cold, as if he was looking at a dead body: "The other one!"

Karkaroff froze immediately.

Voldemort didn't say another word, he just waved his hand, as if he was grasping a non-existent rope, and pulled up Karkaroff's other hand.

Then he pushed Karkaroff's sleeves up to his elbows.

Harry saw something on the skin that looked like a bright red tattoo - a skeleton with a snake spitting out of its mouth.

The mark of the dark devil!

Voldemort looked at the pattern with nostalgia in his eyes, as if recalling the past. What he missed was the power and power he had in the past, what he missed was the painful wails of Muggles, and the pleasure of the Death Eaters groveling humbly at his feet!

"They will all know that you are back!" Little Barty said excitedly, "Lestrange, Lucius, Flint... they are all waiting for your call, sir!"

Voldemort chuckled and pressed his long, pale index finger on Karkaroff's arm.

The scar on Harry's forehead hurt sharply again, and Karkaroff let out another wail.

Voldemort had a cruel look of triumph on his face. He straightened up, raised his head, and scanned the dark lair.

"Waiting for my call?"

"But after feeling it, how many have the guts to come back?" he murmured, staring at the stars with his glowing red eyes, "and how many are foolish enough not to come?"

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