Chapter 693: Voldemort Returns

Harry's eyes were fixed on the sword. He heard the spell, the blood of his enemies, and naturally Voldemort's enemies...

Harry felt the tip of the sword piercing the crook of his right arm. Blood was dripping from his tattered clothes.

Barty Crouch Jr., who was still panting in pain, took out a small glass medicine bottle from his pocket and reached into Harry's wound.

A large drop of blood disease entered the bottle.

He staggered back to the large stone gas cooker with Harry's blood in his hand. Pour the blood into it.

The liquid kept changing, finally turning into an empty white color.

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

Then he fell sideways and lay on the grass, gasping and whimpering, clutching the bleeding spot on his arm.

However, the expression on Barty Crouch Jr.'s face made Fan Lin tremble. It was hard to imagine such enthusiasm...

The cauldron slowly boiled, sparks shooting out again. Nothing else has changed...

"Drown it..." Harry prayed mentally, "let the whole thing go wrong."

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

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

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

Then, through the thick fog ahead of him, Harry saw, to his horror, the dark outline of a man, tall and thin, rising slowly upward from the inside of the cauldron.

"Put on my clothes!" A high and cold voice sounded from behind the fog.

Although little Barty Crouch was still whimpering and moaning, he still shook his wound and crawled to pick up the pile of black clothes on the grass. Then he stood up unsteadily, stood up on his toes, and pulled the clothes over his master's head with one hand.

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

Loyal Death Eaters can sacrifice everything for Voldemort, just like fanatics in religion. Although they still retain human weakness,...

The tall and thin man walked out of the boiler and stared at Harry... Harry also stared at the ugly face that had troubled him with nightmares for three years - a face that was paler than his skull, with big black and red eyes. , a flat nose like a snake's nose, and many nostrils... Duke Voldemort is resurrected again.

This is destined to be a memorable moment. After thirteen years, Voldemort once again possessed a human body and lived 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; the red eyes with slit pupils, like cat eyes, shine even more brightly in the darkness. He raised his hand and stretched his fingers with an expression of concentration and pleasure.

He didn't pay any attention to Barty Crouch Jr., who was lying on the ground twitching and bleeding. He also didn't pay attention to the big snake. At this moment, it slid back into Harry's sight and entangled itself again. Harry, hissed.

Voldemort's unnaturally fingered hands slipped into a deep pocket and produced a short staff. He also gently caressed the short staff, then raised it and pointed it at Barty Crouch Jr.

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

Voldemort looked at Harry with his crimson eyes. He gave a high-pitched, cold, unsmiling laugh.

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

"Stretch out your arm," Voldemort said lazily. "Oh, Master... Of course, my Master Master..."

He held out the bloody stump, but Voldemort smiled again, "Barty Crouch, the other arm."

"Okay, okay...my...my master..." Little Barty did not dare to go any further. He knelt at Voldemort's feet and stretched out his intact right hand.

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

He pushed the sleeves of Crouch's robe up to his elbows.

Harry saw something on his skin that looked like a bright red tattoo - it was a skull with a snake sticking out of its mouth - exactly like the one that had appeared in the sky in the Quidditch World Cup: a black symbol.

Voldemort ignored Barty Crouch Jr.'s uncontrollable chatter and examined it carefully. "It's back," he said softly, "They all must have noticed... now we'll see... now we'll know..."

He pressed his long, white index finger to the mark on Crouch's arm. The scar on Harry's forehead felt intense pain as if it was being burned by fire, and Crouch couldn't help but let out a cry.

Voldemort removed his finger from Crouch's mark and Harry saw that it had turned black and shiny.

A look of cruel satisfaction came over Voldemort's face. He stood up straight, turned his head, and looked around the dark tomb.

"How many would dare to come back boldly when they sensed my resurrection?" he murmured, his shining red eyes gazing at the stars. "How many people would be foolish enough to leave?"

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

"Well done," Voldemort praised, "Just like Bella, you are all my partners..."

Voldemort said, taking Barty Crouch Jr.'s left hand, "This is the reward that should be given to you, Crouch, although your father..."

Voldemort didn't say anything. He waved his wand, and a silver-white palm 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 back and forth, and after that, Harry and Fanlin kept scanning the tomb.

After about a minute, he looked down at Harry again, his snake-like face twisted into a cruel smile.

"Harry Potter, you are standing over the remains of my dead father," he said softly, "a complete fool,... just like your dear mother. But they both have their uses, and they all have their uses. Isn't that right? Your mother died to protect you as a child...and I killed my father and saw him prove how useful he was in death..." Voldemort laughed again.

He walked up and down again, looking around. The snake was still circling in the grass. (To be continued)