Chapter 588 Azkaban Is Robbed

The crackling raindrops hit the diamond-shaped glass window of the Gryffindor common room, making a continuous crisp sound, intertwined with the sound of matches popping in the fireplace, and listening carefully, it felt like it was the dead of night.

The ginger Crookshanks was lying on the edge of the fireplace, reflecting the orange firelight. From a distance, it looked like a naughty flame splashing out.

The little wizards sat together in twos and threes, each doing their own thing. Hermione leaned slightly to the right, her fluffy brown hair hanging down naturally, with the left half of her face hidden in the shadow of her hair. She held a quill in her right hand and drew on the parchment. There was a light rustling sound, and when I finished writing a paragraph and sorted my thoughts, I raised my hand to smooth my hanging hair from time to time, and half of my face was dyed with a faint golden light by the fire.

"jingle!"

Loren next to him counted the galleons.

"34...35..."

Ron watched intently from the side, whispering in his mouth to help him count.

"Young wizard, do you desire to be rich?"

Loren held a gold Galleon in his hand and observed the lines on it with the help of the reflection of the fire. After many revisions, the communication alchemy array pattern had been simplified and matured, with many complicated and trivial parts deleted. The lines like leaf veins were all over the place. It has a slightly shiny metallic luster, revealing the unique beauty of alchemical creations: "Learn alchemy with me. The raw materials of 10 Sickles are refined and resold for 10 Galleons..."

Ron frowned, showing a heart-beating expression. He opened his eyes wide and looked at the gold galleons in the bag, and then at the ancient runic tome on the table and the symbols on it that looked like heavenly books.

Ron shook his head with a heavy expression: "Wealth is precious, but freedom is even more valuable..."

"That's nice to say..."

Harry glanced at him with disdain and said sternly: "You clearly don't want to go to class or do complicated and difficult homework."

"Yes! I am!" Ron raised his chin and admitted confidently.

Harry slowly approached with a solemn expression, and in a blink of an eye he put his arm on his shoulders with a smile. The two brothers patted him affectionately: "As expected of you, you are my good friend. I think so too."

"Fortunately, we were smart and didn't take the ancient runes course."

"That's right, Professor Trelawney in the Divination class is a little weird, but the simple homework makes up for it."

"..."

Loren looked at the last gold Galleons, and was amused by the two people. Then he checked the spelling of the title on the input page on the back for the last time. At Draco's request, the name was anonymized and the code name was used:

"Belladonna, sapsweed, poison hemlock, nettles, poppies... mandrake..."

Harry and Ron, who had had enough trouble, also calmed down and immersed themselves in working on their respective Potions papers. The progress was very slow. They referred to Loren and Hermione's papers, looked through the literature in the textbook, and went out word by word. collapse.

"Why Potions is not an elective subject..."

Harry muttered, feeling a little annoyed, but then he remembered that he wouldn't have to take Potions class next year, and suddenly he felt a little happy in his heart, and even the obscure words in the book became more pleasing to the eye.

Harry lowered his head and continued to read the document, silently reading in his heart: "Scurvy, lovage and sneezeweed... these plants are most likely to cause encephalitis, and are mostly used in delirium drugs, making people irritable and reckless..."

Um……

Professor McGonagall always said that he was reckless and Snape must have poisoned him during class.

"Symptoms related to encephalitis include high fever, febrile seizures, splitting headache..."

Did Voldemort cause him to get encephalitis? This was how he felt every time the scar hurt.

It is mostly used in confusion drugs. The word confusion is very appropriate. Why can he know how Voldemort feels? What is this strange connection between them? He occasionally doesn't recognize who he is, which is very confusing...

The fire reflected in the fireplace was hot, the armchairs were soft and comfortable, the raindrops tapped lightly on the windows, Crookshanks whined, and the fire crackled...

The book in Harry's hand slowly lay flat, his head lowered lower and lower, and his forehead soon touched his arm, and his consciousness gradually became blurred.

…

On the outskirts of Wiltshire, in the brightly lit Malfoy Castle, Narcissa, wearing a dark green robe embellished with gold, stood at the corner of the stairs and looked up. Her long eyelashes cast a shadow on her eyelids. The eyes of the gorgeous lady were full of worry.

Just last night, a solemn-looking Snape suddenly visited. The Dark Lord greeted him with great joy. Then the two occupied the castle attic and drove out all the house elves in the manor, leaving only Lucius outside the door. Be at your command.

Her close cousin had gone on a mission a few days ago, and no one knew what they were doing upstairs. All Narcissa could do was pray for her husband.

Finally, Lucius, wearing pure black wizard robes and holding a silver-handled wand in one hand, walked down the spiral staircase alone. His face could not hide his tiredness, but he still walked lightly to his wife, with his fingers raised to his lips. , whispered:

"Don't say anything, don't ask anything, just pretend Severus never came tonight."

"I see."

"Not even Bellatrix can say that."

"..."

Narcissa was stunned for a moment and nodded slowly.

Lucius looked up at the end of the stairs, his brows furrowed, countless thoughts intertwined in his mind, and finally twisted into a ball and turned into a complicated sigh.

In the attic on the top floor of the manor, the disgusting and strange smell was particularly strong, as if rotten and fermented flesh and blood were mashed into meat paste, added with pungent medicine juice, and poured into a red-hot crucible, and suddenly a crackling steam rose. The bodies of dozens of dark magic creatures were scattered on the floor in all directions, and their skins shrank and shriveled, as if all the blood was drained before death. But except for the skinny animal corpses, there was no blood at the scene, not even a splash of blood.

Snape stood by, his face was bloodless and morbidly pale.

He had carefully studied and read the chapters on making Horcruxes in cutting-edge black magic. As a potion master who had handled various biological materials, he thought his mental state was enough to withstand all this. However, after a ceremony, he had only one thought in his heart, to cast a forgetfulness spell on himself and completely delete the memory in his mind.

No wonder Helper created Horcruxes for nearly a thousand years, and only Voldemort succeeded in making them.

If he had to complete the ritual alone, even if he had the obsession to transcend death in his heart, he would not have the courage to carry it out to the end.

Voldemort's terrifying snake pupils were glowing with scarlet light, and the corners of his mouth were filled with the happiest smile since his resurrection.

The pungent smell of flesh and sulfur remained in the air. Voldemort preferred to call it the breath of death. Including this time, he had smelled it eight times. Not only did he not feel fishy, ​​but he smelled a fascinating smell from it.

The corpses of the creatures displayed on the floor were sacrifices to death, and also a test to defeat the god of death.

From then on, he had a servant who would follow him forever.

"If you bring the body you killed yourself, the ceremony will be more perfect..."

Snape came back to his senses from the pain of his soul being torn apart, and tried to squeeze out strength from his body, weakly replying: "Sorry, Master..."

The corners of Voldemort's mouth curled up more obviously. Snape was immortal but weak, and he felt more satisfied with the fragility he showed. This immortality was not obtained by Snape, but depended on his own gift.

Just when he was about to give some instructions, a strange and weak wave suddenly swayed in his mind, as if a breeze swept through the starry sky, bringing a negligible coolness.

However, now the doors and windows are closed.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and a coldness bloomed in his snake pupils: "Welcome, my guest... Harry Potter!"

"!!"

Hundreds of miles away, the boy who was taking a nap on the round table opened his eyes a little, and Harry came back to his senses from his trance and found that he was sleeping on the single sofa in the common room, covered with a thin blanket.

Ginny sat beside her at some point, flipping through his potion thesis.

Some hazy and distant memories gradually emerged in his mind. After sorting out the content of his dream, Harry suddenly opened his eyes wide.

The next second, a sharp pain emerged from the scar on his forehead, as if a sharp dagger pierced into his brain along the scar, stirring constantly, and his head hurt as if it was cut open.

Mingming was lying motionless on the single sofa, but everything in the common room was moving forward rapidly. The faces of his friends were as long as the shadows under the street lights, and they disappeared in the blink of an eye. The sound of the pattering rain and the crackling firewood disappeared, and there was only a dead silence around.

The red-eyed monster appeared again, tightly wrapped around his body, like a python entangled with its captured prey, squeezing every inch of flesh and bones in his body with great force. The extreme pain made Harry's consciousness gradually blurred, as if at some moment, he would merge with the monster.

The scenes in the dream emerged in his mind, flashing and disappearing without leaving any trace.

"He is erasing my memory..."

Harry vaguely realized the monster's behavior, and a strong anger surged from the bottom of his heart, so that his consciousness was a little trembling: "Damn Voldemort, damn Voldemort! Unforgivable, unforgivable!"

Harry didn't know whether Voldemort could hear these curses from the heart, but he was determined to teach this monster a lesson.

"It's not enough to manipulate my body, but you even want to manipulate my memory!"

Harry gritted his teeth and woke up, enduring all the pain and trying to control his consciousness, twisting and struggling to break free from the monster's entanglement, punching and kicking it, and venting his anger by colliding with the lower part between the two red eyes.

His mind was full of thoughts of punching it hard in the nose.

...

Harry sank into the soft sofa, his scattered consciousness gathering little by little, feeling the scar on his forehead and the excruciating pain in his limbs, as if a whole Hogwarts Express had run over him a minute ago. Those distant memories were still gradually blurred. In the gradually clear vision, he saw Ginny's slightly red face turned over and said shyly:

"Loren asked me to do this."

Harry felt that his brain was a little confused, probably crushed by the wheels of the express train. He turned his head to look at Loren on the side, expressing his doubts with his eyes.

"Your magic is rioting again, and the magic light is as bright as a bonfire. It's hard to ignore it." Loren spread his hands, "I think you probably need the power of love."

Hermione looked at him from the side, thinking, although it sounded like a joke, but she quickly thought of the night when the Defense Association held its first event, Harry lost control and was admitted to the school hospital, and Dumbledore had mentioned this matter.

Ron had a strange look on his face. He looked from Harry to Ginny and slowly frowned.

Harry struggled to sit up and opened his mouth to tell what happened just now, but nothing came out.

He vaguely felt that he had experienced an unusual adventure, but those pictures were like broken dreams of a nap in the afternoon. In the few seconds when the thoughts flowed, they became blurred and hazy, leaving only a few simple pictures.

"I seem to have dreamed of Voldemort again..."

Harry blinked in confusion, tilted his head and thought for a long time before he could barely remember something. He spoke slowly and hesitantly, his tone full of uncertainty: "I dreamed that he was laughing...excited, ecstatic, as if something good had happened, something he had been looking forward to..."

He patted the scar on his forehead hard: "But I can't remember it!"

"Don't think about it for now." Loren put away the paper and pen on the table and helped him up from the sofa, "You should go to the school infirmary to have a look."

Harry looked into Ginny's watery eyes and said subconsciously: "I feel... okay..."

"Then go to the principal's office and talk to Dumbledore."

"Oh."

...

The rain fell all night last night and slowly weakened at dawn. It was at that time that Loren went to the Slytherin common room and handed over Galleons in one hand and Galleons in the other.

Thanks to the sound of rain that helped with sleep, the next morning, the little wizards welcomed the new week with high spirits.

"Dumbledore doesn't know what Voldemort has been expecting, but I always feel that he is hiding something from me. He seems absent-minded..."

In the hall, Harry took a bite of bread with bacon: "But I can understand. What if Voldemort can hear it?"

Loren sipped his oatmeal porridge in small sips, with some guesses in his mind. He glanced at the guest of honor seat. Neither Dumbledore nor Professor Snape appeared. There were few people there.

Could it be that the Death Eaters found out the whereabouts of the Elder Wand and found out that the blond man was the famous Grindelwald?

"I know!" Hermione beside him suddenly screamed.

"What?"

"The Death Eaters escaped!"

Hermione spread today's Daily Prophet on the table, pointed to the bold headline on the front page, and read in a deep voice:

"Azkaban Falls: The Ministry of Magic announced a large-scale prison break in Azkaban last night. Minister Cornelius Fudge confirmed in an interview in his office that several serious criminals escaped last night. The Ministry of Magic has now informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the danger of the fugitives...

"Minister Fudge said: It is very regrettable that we are in the same situation as when the Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange escaped two and a half years ago, and we do not think that the two prison breaks are unrelated. Such a large-scale prison break makes people suspect that there is outside support. As a fugitive Death Eater, Bellatrix is ​​most qualified to help others escape...

"But the Ministry of Magic is making every effort to hunt down the fugitives. Please keep calm and don't believe any rumors."