Rebirth of the Harry Potter

night.

The Riddle Mansion covered in vines.

Frank, who had just fallen asleep, woke up.

Because he found some abnormal movements in the house.

He thought it was the naughty boys of the village who were torturing him again.

It's normal for him to have this kind of thinking, because under the subtle influence of the previous two generations in the village, the children in the village tried every means to tease him as a "murderer".

He was almost seventy-seventh birthday this year, and his ears were not very sensitive. If it wasn't for the quiet night, he wouldn't have heard the rustling in the house at all.

What's more, his bad leg got worse. When he was young, he could support it a little, but later it became completely stiff, and walking was cumbersome.

When the weather is good, Frank works slowly in the flower garden. Although the weeds are creeping towards him, he can only stop them if he wants to.

Weeds, though, were easy for Frank to deal with, not the kids who tormented him.

The boys in the village were always throwing stones at the windows of the Riddle House.

Frank took a lot of painstaking efforts to keep the grass level, but they rode their bicycles on it.

Sometimes, because of betting with each other, they broke into the old house and wreaked havoc, and they knew that old Frank's care of the house and grounds was almost more important than his life.

It was Frank who ended up limping across the garden, brandishing his cane, yelling at them hoarsely, driving them angrily.

Seeing his furious but helpless appearance, those boys would laugh and stand at a distance on purpose, scold him with harsh words, and sing songs:

"Lame Frank"

"His heart is more venomous than a snake"

"On that red moon night"

"He brutally murdered his master"

"La la la la..."

Thinking of these things, Frank said angrily: "I must catch you brats today,

Go to your parents and ask them carefully. "

He rolled out of bed and limped downstairs into the kitchen, trying to fill the hot water bottle first to warm his stiff knees.

Standing by the sink, filling the waterskin, he looked up towards the Riddle House, where he saw a glimmer of light in one of the upstairs windows.

Frank knew immediately what was going on. Those boys broke into the old house again, and the twilight flickered and flickered, and it could be seen that they had lit a fire!

Frank was worried that the situation could not be controlled—for example, a fire burned down the big house, so he hurriedly put down the kettle and didn't care about warming his leg. He dragged his bad leg and tried his best to go back upstairs, got dressed, and then went back to the house. to the kitchen.

He took the old rusty key from the hook by the door, picked up the crutch leaning against the wall, and walked into the night.

The front door of the Riddle House showed no signs of being forced into, and the windows were intact.

Frank was slightly puzzled, how did those brats get in? Is it over the wall? But the wall is so high.

He limped around to the back of the house, stopped at a gate that was almost completely hidden by creepers, took out the old key, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door noiselessly.

Frank walked into the cave-like dark big kitchen, which was the place where the Riddle family cooked. Naturally, it was not comparable to the small kitchen he used, and he hadn't been in for many years.

It was dark all around, but he was very familiar with the house, even if he couldn't see clearly, he still touched the door leading to the corridor based on his memory and feeling.

He groped and walked over, and a rotten smell came to his nostrils. He pricked up his ears, picking up every sound of footsteps or voices in the loft above him.

He came out into the corridor, which let in a little light because of the large ling windows on either side of the front door.

He began to go upstairs, thinking that thanks to the thick dust on the stone steps, the sound of his footsteps and crutches was muffled and hardly noticed.

This time he must catch those bastards and hit them on the head with a cane, dare to light a fire in the dry attic in the middle of the night.

On the landing, Frank turned right and saw immediately where the intruder was.

Just at the end of the corridor, a door was ajar, and a flickering light shot out from the crack, casting an orange-yellow shadow on the dark floor.

Frank leaned sideways and approached cautiously, clutching his cane tightly in his hand.

I guessed in my heart who was here today, whether it was from the Dot family, from the Ian family, or from the Mike family, or they came together.

He stopped a few steps away from the door, and from here he could already see the narrow gap in the room.

To his surprise, the flame was lit in the fireplace, unlike the brat he expected to light the fire on the wooden floor.

He pricked up his ears and began to listen to the voices inside.

Only the voices of two grown men, not children, could be heard in the room.

A voice seemed timid, timid, and fearful: "There is still potion in the bottle, master, can you drink some more, after all, you are... so weak now."

The other voice was also a male voice, with a shrill and strange voice, as icy as cold wind. Hearing this voice, the hairs on the back of Frank's neck stood on end.

The shrill voice said, "Later, move me to the fireplace first, Harris."

Frank moved closer again, eyes pressed against the crack of the door.

A man of medium height, with his back to the door, was pushing a heavy chair, making harsh friction sounds. The man was wearing a long, pitch-black cloak.

But Frank didn't see the legs dangling from the chair, nor did he see the top of the head sticking out of the chair. Is he a dwarf?

The cold voice said, "Where is Nagini?""

The man named Harris trembled, as if he was very frightened, he said nervously, "I... I didn't pay attention, master, it must be wandering around the house."

The icy voice said: "Feed Nagini some food at night. We rushed all the way here. Don't disturb me when I rest and recover."

Harris asked cautiously: "Master, I have a question... How long are we going to stay in this small place?"

The cold voice said: "At least two months, this place is not bad, quiet and safe. It's too stupid to be active during the period before the Quidditch World Cup."

"Ah..." Harris was a little reluctant.

"Idiot, at this time, wizards from all over the world are pouring into this country. Those guys from the Ministry of Magic will definitely be dispatched to investigate all suspicious people and maintain law and order. They are also afraid that Muggles will notice the existence of the wizarding world."

"Also, what surprised me the most is that that old bastard Dumbledore has become the Minister of Magic! We should be more careful!" The cold voice seemed to be gnashing teeth.

Frank plucked his ears hard, what did he hear?

"Quidditch", "Muggle" sounds that are not words at all.

There are also words with mysterious meanings such as "Ministry of Magic" and "wizard". As far as Frank knows, only two kinds of people can speak code words: undercover agents and criminals.

And he believes that these two people inside are definitely not good people.

Frank gripped his cane tightly and listened more attentively.

Harris summoned up his courage and said, "Master...why do you have to have Harry Potter in your plan?"

"If it's another wizard, no matter men, women, old or young, I can help you catch them back."

The cold voice was silent for a long time, and said: "Other wizards? Hehe...Harris, do you want to quickly end your work of serving me? You must feel bored and disgusted by me like this?"

"Master...I don't have one, my loyalty to you can be learned from heaven and earth..."

"Shut up!"

"Did you forget to never lie to me?!"

"I've always understood what you were thinking... When I found you, I asked you to protect me. Along the way, you hated me from the bottom of your heart, hated me for letting you separate from your wife and children, hated me for pulling you away You are now living a life of hiding...you don't even dare to look me in the eye..."

Harris tremblingly said: "No, Merlin, I just want to follow you to the death..."

"How dare you lie to me!" the cold voice growled.

"You're too cowardly to be scared to death when I hear that my target is Dumbledore's heavily guarded Harry Potter. You dare not go against the Ministry of Magic."

"I told you, Harry Potter's flesh and blood are the best materials for me to restore my strength. I won't even consider other people!"

"When I saw your terrified look, I even missed Wormtail, that cowardly, stinky mouse who bowed to me."

"Master, Wormtail is dead." Harris reminded unhappy.

There was a hint of regret in the cold voice: "I know...it's a pity, I didn't expect that I would be resurrected, and Wormtail, who had been hiding for more than ten years, died..."

"Harris, the plan will not change. We tortured Bertha Jorkins to death before we got the important information from her that led me to this plan. Hehe, who would have thought...Dumbledore Lido actually thinks that it is time to restart the thing that has been suspended for hundreds of years..."

"This is our chance, otherwise, it will be very difficult to wait until Harry Potter disappears from the public eye and there are not so many people around him..."

Harris said with some pride: "Master, I caught Bertha Jorkins, I..."

"Hush!" The cold voice suddenly stopped Harris from continuing to speak as if he had discovered something.

...