Harry Potter Reborn

night.

Riddle House covered with vines.

Frank, who had just fallen asleep, woke up.

Because he noticed something strange happening in the house.

He thought it was the troublesome boys in the village who were torturing him again.

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

He is approaching his seventy-seventh birthday this year, and his ears are not very sensitive. If it were not for a quiet night, he would not hear the rustling sounds in the house at all.

Moreover, his bad leg became more serious. When he was young, he could still support it slightly, but later it became completely stiff, making walking a burden.

When the weather was nice, Frank worked slowly in the flower garden. Although the weeds were spreading quietly around him, he was unable to stop them even if he wanted to.

But the weeds were easy for Frank to deal with. What was difficult was the children who tormented him.

The boys in the village always liked to throw stones at the windows of Riddle House.

Frank took great pains to keep the grass smooth, but they rode their bicycles and rolled over it at will.

Sometimes, because of their bets, they even broke into the old house and wreaked havoc. They knew that Old Frank cared for the house and gardens wholeheartedly, almost to the extent that it was more important than his own life.

In the end it was Frank who limped across the garden, waving his cane, shouting at them in a hoarse voice, and angrily driving them away.

When those boys saw him furious but helpless, they would laugh and deliberately stand far away, say ugly words and scold him, 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 have to catch you little brats today and go to your parents to question you."

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

He stood by the pool, filling the water bag, and looking up towards Riddle House, he saw a glimmer of light shining in a window upstairs.

Frank immediately understood what was going on. The boys had broken into the old house again. The dim light was flickering, and it was obvious that they had lit a fire!

Frank was worried that the situation was out of control - like a fire burning down the big house. He quickly put down the kettle, not caring to warm his legs. He dragged his bad leg back upstairs as hard as he could, got dressed, and then went back

Go to the kitchen.

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

There were no signs of forced entry at the Riddle House's front door, and the windows were intact.

Frank was slightly confused, how did those naughty kids get in? Did they climb over the wall? But the wall was so high.

He limped around to the back of the house, stopped at a door that was almost completely covered by an ivy, took out the old key, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door silently.

Frank walked into the cave-like dark kitchen. This was the place where the owners of the Riddle family cooked. It was naturally not comparable to the small kitchen he used. He had not been in it for many years.

It was pitch dark all around, but he was familiar with the house. Even though he couldn't see clearly, he still felt the door leading to the corridor based on his memory and feeling.

He groped his way over, and a rotten smell hit his nostrils. He pricked up his ears, catching every trace of footsteps or voices in the attic above his head.

He came to the corridor, where a little light came in because of the large mullioned windows on both sides of the front door.

He started to go upstairs, thinking that thanks to the thick dust on the stone steps, the sound of his footsteps and the sound of his cane were muffled and not easily noticed by others.

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

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

At the end of the corridor, a door was opened a crack, and a flickering light shot out from the crack, casting an orange light shadow on the dark floor.

Frank leaned sideways and approached carefully, holding the crutch tightly in his hand.

I was guessing who was coming today, whether it was from Dot's family, Ian's family, Mike's family, or both.

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

What surprised him was that unlike the naughty kid lighting a fire on the wooden floor as he expected, the flame was lit in the fireplace.

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

Only the voices of two adult men instead of children were heard in the room.

A voice sounded timid, timid, and fearful: "There is still some magic potion in the bottle. Master, why don't you drink a little more? After all, you are... so weak now."

The other voice was also a male's. The voice was strangely high-pitched, as cold and biting as the cold wind. Listening to this voice, the hair on the back of Frank's neck stood up.

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

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

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

But Frank didn't see any feet hanging down from the chair, nor did he see a head protruding from the chair. Could he be a dwarf?

The cold voice said: "Where is Nagini?"

The man named Harris trembled and seemed to be scared. He said nervously: "I...I didn't pay attention, Master. It's probably wandering around the house."

The cold voice said: "Feed Nagini some food tonight. We have been running all the way here. Don't disturb me while I rest and recover."

Harris asked cautiously: "Master, I have a question...how long will we stay in this small place?"

The cold voice said: "At least for two months, this place is pretty good, quiet, and safe. It's stupid to be active 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 public order. They are also afraid that Muggles will notice the existence of the magical world."

"What's more, what surprises me the most is that that old immortal Dumbledore has become the Minister of Magic! We should be more cautious!" The cold voice sounded like gritted teeth.

Frank dug his ears hard. What did he hear?

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

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

And he believed that these two people inside were definitely not good people.

Frank gripped the crutch tightly and listened more intently.

Harris plucked up the courage and said, "Master... why does your plan have to include Harry Potter?"

"If it's other wizards, regardless of age or sex, I can help you catch them."

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

"Master...I don't have it. My loyalty to you is evident..."

"Shut up!"

"Have you forgotten to never lie in front of me?!"

"I have always understood what you were thinking... When I found you and asked you to protect me, you resented me from the bottom of your heart all the way. You hated me for separating you from your wife and children, and you hated me for dragging you away again.

I've made you live a life of hiding here and there... You usually don't even dare to look me in the eye..."

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

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

"You are too cowardly. You were scared to death when you heard that my target was Harry Potter, whom Dumbledore protected so closely. You don't dare to go against the Ministry of Magic."

"I told you, Harry Potter's flesh, blood, and flesh are the best materials for me to restore my strength. I won't consider anyone else at all!"

"When I saw you looking so frightened, I even missed Wormtail, that stinky rat who was timid but kowtowed to me."

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

There was a trace of regret in the cold voice: "I know... What a pity. I didn't expect that I would be resurrected, but Wormtail, who had been hiding for more than ten years, would die..."

"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. Haha, who would have thought...Dumbo

Lido actually thinks that it’s time to restart the thing that has been suspended for hundreds of years..."

"This is our chance. Otherwise, it would be difficult to wait until Harry Potter disappears from the public eye without so many people surrounding him..."

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

"Shh——!" The cold voice suddenly seemed to have discovered something and stopped Harris from continuing to speak.

…