The Death Knell

The Sphinx didn't tell Harry that there were other monsters in the passage behind her. Harry, who was running wildly, was ambushed by a giant spider and almost died.

This spider looked a bit like the big pet Hagrid kept in the Forbidden Forest, but not as big and not as hairy.

But none of these eight-legged ghosts were as harmless as Hagrid made them out to be.

After the sharp claws pierced his robe, trousers and thighs, Harry still used a series of obstacle-heavy spells to make the spider knock itself out on the 'wall of air'.

The boy tore off a piece of his robe, tucked his long black hair behind his ears, bit his wand, and tied the strip of cloth tightly around his thigh.

"Well!"

He let out a low groan full of tough guy air, spit out his wand, and wiped the sweat from his head.

This is an emergency treatment method taught to them by physical education professors in class. It can slow down the blood loss in a short period of time and help them live longer.

Harry didn't like taking physical education classes before, but things changed after he developed strong muscles. He gradually realized the benefits of a strong body.

For example, I have more energy, run faster, and won’t be bullied by Dali when I go home during the summer vacation.

The same is true now. The muscles in the thigh prevented the spider teeth from piercing the entire leg, and the blood loss was still under control. If it was still before, he was not even sure whether he could dodge the sudden attack in the dark.

Harry sat on the grass with his teeth grinning. Not far away was the unconscious spider with its legs in the air. There was some sticky transparent liquid on his torn robe, which was secreted from the spider's mouth. I don't know if there was any. poison.

He tried to stand up, but his legs were shaking so much that he could not support the weight of his body. He supported his body with his hands and moved a few times, trying to stand up with the support of the hedge next to him.

The boy did it. For the sake of his parents and girlfriend, the little Gryffindor lion inspired a strong willpower, although it made him take a big breath.

Now, the warrior from Gryffindor was only a few dozen meters away from the Top Ten Cup, and he could almost see the beautiful silver pattern.

Hermione did not appear, which meant that Harry won. He was the first to find the trophy. He did not rely on his mother to cheat, but relied on his newly learned skills.

He jumped towards the trophy and reached out his hand to grab the ear-shaped handle.

However, the moment he came into contact with it, he suddenly felt as if his navel was being pulled. His feet left the ground, but he could not let go of the hand holding the trophy. It dragged him along with the whistling wind and rotating colors. He flew forward in the middle, surrounded by colorful space distortions.

Tens of seconds later, he felt his feet touch the ground, his injured leg softened, and he fell to the ground.

At this time, his hand finally let go of the trophy, and the beautiful big silver cup rolled away like a log under the dark night. He raised his head and looked at the surrounding situation warily.

No one told him that the trophy was a doorkey, or that there was such a thing as a play-off tournament.

And the thing that just stopped the trophy from rolling towards the low-lying area was actually a tombstone?

Harry didn't think it was a good idea to take the game to the cemetery and disturb the dead.

But now, there was nothing to criticize. He hugged a tombstone to support himself, took out his wand and leaned on it, fully alert.

He had that strange feeling again, as if someone was watching him.

Indeed, someone is coming.

The boy squinted his eyes nervously and looked into the darkness. Lightning lit up among the dark clouds in the sky. A figure walked towards him step by step in the forest of tombstones, which looked like a mass grave.

Harry couldn't see the man's face clearly, but judging from his gait and the posture of his arms, it seemed that the man was holding something, not big, maybe a cat.

The visitor was short in stature and wore a hooded cloak that covered his face.

Getting closer again, the distance between the two sides was shrinking, and Harry could see that the thing the man was holding looked like a baby, or was it just a bag of clothes?

The wand in his hand was lowered. He didn't want to hurt anyone. If this was a Muggle cemetery, he also wanted to make sure that the existence of the wand and the secrets of the wizarding world would not be revealed.

But he never thought that the finals would start at eight o'clock in the evening. After several hours of running in the super maze, it was already three o'clock in the middle of the night.

How can any normal person visit a grave in the middle of the night?

The man stopped in front of a towering marble tombstone, only twenty meters away from Harry. The boy and the short figure looked at each other.

To be precise, he was looking at the creature in the cloth bundle he was holding.

Suddenly, the lightning scar on Harry's forehead hurt sharply. He had never felt such severe pain in his life.

The wand fell to the ground. He covered his face with his hands, bent his legs and fell to the ground. His whole body was feeling bad and he was rolling on the ground in pain.

It was pitch black before my eyes, I couldn't see anything, and my head felt like it was going to explode.

He could only hear someone saying grimly far above his head: "Harry Potter? He's actually dressed like Snape... What a surprise."

Harry reluctantly raised his head and stared blankly at the thing in the cloak, or rather the only identifiable eyes of the thing.

In the shadow of the package, only the emotionless red eyes of the creature were like the windows of an abandoned house, and the rest were still submerged in the cover of darkness.

For some reason, Harry knew exactly what the monster in the package in front of him was. It was Voldemort!

Don't ask him how he knew, even though people said that Voldemort was dead long ago, every cell in Harry's brain and the beating heart in his chest were telling him another answer.

It was as if the memories of his childhood had returned to his mind, when he saw how Voldemort killed his mother.

But he had a splitting headache and couldn't resist. His head was filled with noises and screams.

Just then he felt himself being dragged up.

The short man in the cloak had already put down his baggage and lit his wand. It was he who picked up Harry, who was in so much pain that he couldn't fight back, and dragged him towards the marble tombstone.

When the boy was pushed back and hit the tombstone, he saw a name on the tombstone under the light of lightning in the sky.

Tom Riddle

The man in the cloak used magic to conjure a rope and tied Harry tightly to the tombstone, wrapping it around and around from his neck to his ankles. He only heard a rapid wheezing sound coming from under his hood, something like something. Like livestock.

Being farther away from Voldemort, the boy also regained some strength. He struggled hard, but the man hit him, and a finger was missing from the hand he used.

Harry knew who was inside the hood. It was Scabbers, no, it was Wormtail, and it was also Peter Pettigrew, the traitor who killed his mother!

"It's you, scumbag!"

But Wormtail didn't answer. He had already finished tying the rope and was busy checking whether it was tight.

His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he fumbled with the knots. When he was sure that Harry was tied tightly and could not move, he took out a piece of coal from his cloak and stuffed it into Harry roughly. The sharp mouth made the boy unable to speak.

Then he hurried away.

Harry couldn't make a sound and couldn't see where Peter had gone because he couldn't turn his head to look behind the tombstone. Harry assumed he had gone to get the baby Voldemort.

As the returning footsteps approached, Harry's scar began to hurt sharply again.

At this time, he heard a rustling sound at his feet. When he looked down, he saw a big snake snaking on the grass, circling around his tombstone.

Pettigrew's wheezing sounds started again, as if he was pushing something heavy in the darkness.

Then he came into Harry's sight from behind the tombstone and pushed a huge pot next to the tomb. The cauldron seemed to be filled with water, because Harry heard the sound of liquid splashing.

This cauldron was much larger than any cauldron the boy had ever used, and perhaps the bathtubs of wealthy people were no more than this, but Harry knew that Voldemort was definitely not kind enough to entertain him here and arrange a bath or sauna for him.

Maybe you want to cook it yourself? Maybe... After all, Voldemort's bundle was squirming more vigorously, as if he couldn't wait to get free.

Wormtail was busy scratching at the bottom of the crucible with his wand, and suddenly a crackling flame burst out under the crucible. The boa constrictor obviously didn't like fire, and it retreated far away. Only the sound of scales rubbing could be heard in the darkness.

The liquid in the crucible seemed to heat up very quickly. Not only did the water begin to boil, but sparks shot out, glowing green like fireworks.

The steam became thicker and thicker, Wormtail's figure tending the flames became blurred, the bundle moved more quickly, and Harry heard Voldemort's sharp, cold voice again.

"quick!"

Now the entire water surface is flashing, reflecting the increasingly dense lightning brilliance in the sky, and the boiling bubbles are like countless large and small crystal balls.

"The medicine is ready, my master."

Pettigrew bowed obediently to the bundle and even knelt on the ground, his face full of flattery.

"It's now......"

Voldemort's voice sounded like a poisonous snake spitting out its seeds.