HP Magic Biography

Harry fixed his eyes on the sword, he heard the spell, the blood of the enemy, the enemy of Voldemort...

Harry felt the point of the sword pierce the curve of his right arm. Blood kept dripping from his tattered clothes.

Barty Crouch Jr., still gasping for pain, took out a small glass pill bottle from his pocket and stretched it to Harry's wound.

A large drop of blood got into the bottle.

He staggered back to the big stone gas kettle with Harry's blood. Pour blood into it.

The liquid kept changing, and finally turned into an empty white.

Barty Crouch Jr. knelt down beside the steam boiler exhausted, as if his work had been done.

Then he fell to the side and lay on the grass, panting and whimpering, clutching the bleeding spot on his arm.

However, the expression on Barty Crouch Jr.'s face made Fanlin terrified. It is hard to imagine, such a fanaticism...

The steam pot slowly boiled, and sparks were blazing again. No other changes...

"Drow it..." Harry prayed in his heart, "Make the whole thing go wrong."

Then, the sparks in the boiler suddenly went out. It was replaced by a huge white smoke, covering everything in front of Harry.

He couldn't see Barty Crouch Jr. or the person who didn't want to mention the name, all he had in his eyes was steam suspended in the air...

"It went wrong," thought Harry, "...the monster was drowned...please...please God let it die..."

Then, through the thick fog in front of him, Harry was terrified. He saw the black outline of a man, tall and thin, slowly rising from the boiler.

"Put me on!" A high, cold voice sounded from behind the fog.

Although Barty Crouch Jr. was still whimpering and groaning, he still shook the wound and crawled to pick up the pile of black clothes on the grass. Then he stood up swayingly, took his toes, and put the clothes on his master's head with one hand.

The whole process took less than ten seconds, but Fanlin's heart became worse and worse.

A loyal Death Eater can give everything to Voldemort, just like a fanatic in religion, although it still retains human weakness, but...

The tall and thin man walked out of the steam pot and stared at Harry... Harry also stared at the ugly face that had been haunted by nightmares for three years-a face paler than a skull, **** and red eyes , A flat nose like a snake's nose, and many cracks in the nostrils... Lord Voldemort is resurrected again.

This is destined to be a memorable moment. After thirteen years, Voldemort has a human body at a time and survives in this world.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began to examine his own body.

His hands were like huge, pale spiders; his long, white fingers gently caressed his chest. Arms and face; those red eyes with split pupils, like cat eyes, shone even more in the dark. He raised his hand and stretched his fingers with an expression of concentration and joy.

He didn't even notice the **** little Barty Crouch who was lying on the ground, twitching, and he didn't notice the big snake. At this moment, it slid back into Harry's sight and entangled again. Harry, hissing.

Voldemort's hands with unnatural fingers slipped into a deep pocket and took out a short staff. He also caressed the short stick gently, then raised it and pointed it at Barty Crouch Jr.

At this moment, Barty Crouch Jr. was getting up from the ground excitedly and leaped on the tombstone where Harry was tied up.

Fordmore looked at Harry with those crimson eyes. He let out a high-pitched, cold, unsmiling laugh.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s robe was stained with blood and glowed-it turned out he had wrapped his broken arm in it.

"Extend your arm," Voldemort said lazily. "Oh, master...Of course, my master..."

He handed out the **** stump, but Voldemort smiled again. "Barty Crouch, another arm."

"Okay, okay...my...my master..." Little Batty didn't dare to overstep the slightest, he knelt at Voldemort's feet, letting him stretch out his undamaged right hand.

Voldemort squatted down and pulled out Barty Crouch Jr.'s right hand.

He pushed the sleeve of Crouch's robe over his elbow.

Harry saw a piece of skin on his skin that looked like a bright red tattoo — it was a skull with a snake sticking out of his mouth — exactly the same as the one that had appeared in the sky of the Chromatic World Cup: a black logo.

Voldemort ignored Barty Crouch Jr.'s unstoppable scowl and examined it carefully. "It's back," he said softly, "They must have noticed...now we will see...now we will know..."

He pressed the long, white index finger to the mark on Crouch's arm. The scar on Harry's forehead was sore as if it were being burned by fire, and Crouch couldn't help but let out a call sign~www.wuxiaspot.com~Voldemort's finger moved away from the mark on Crouch's body , Harry saw that it had become black and shiny.

There was a cruel expression of contentment on Voldemort's face. He stood up straight, turned his head, and looked around the dark grave.

"How many people would dare to come back boldly when they felt that I was resurrected?" he muttered, his shiny red eyes staring at the stars. "How many people will leave stupidly?"

After speaking, Voldemort lowered his head and looked at Barty Crouch Jr.

"Good job," said Voldemort, "just like Bella, you are all my partners..."

Voldemort said, pulling up the left hand of Jr. Barty Crouch, "This is a reward that should be given to you, Crouch, although your father..."

Voldemort didn't say anything. With a wave of his wand, a palm with a silver forehead appeared in Crouch's empty sleeve.

"Welcome back, my master." Barty Crouch Jr. accepted it respectfully.

"Oh, of course, my friend..." Voldemort stood up, and Barty Crouch Jr. thanked him and stepped aside.

He started pacing around, and Harry and Fanlin have been scanning the tomb after this.

About a minute later, he looked down at Harry again, his snakelike face distorted by a cruel smile.

"Harry. Potter, you are standing on the remains of my dead father," he said softly, "a complete fool...like your dear mother. But they are all useful, right No? Your mother died to protect your child... and I killed my father and saw him prove how useful he was in death..." Voldemort laughed again.

He paced again, looking around, the snake still hovering in the grass. .

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