Chapter 752: Conversation in a Hazy Fantasy
A brand new day is coming.
In a tall building next to the airport, on an open-air platform.
A middle-aged witch dressed strangely sat in the air, her legs hanging in the air, half of her body leaning to a height of 100 meters, looking up at the airport. One of her hands was as crystal clear as jade, and next to her was a magic wand with a phoenix tail feather core.
The closed airport was reopened, and the street lights and billboards on the street emitted colorful lights. The lights of the passing vehicles dragged out lines of bright light, and at a glance, a magnificent spider web was woven. The sky of the airport was clear of clouds and mist, and the bright moonlight fell obliquely, falling on the ground and the glass exterior wall, like a light frost.
Bellatrix rarely observed Muggles carefully, let alone so many Muggles. She didn't even want to look at the Mudbloods. After her sister Andromeda married a Mudblood, she was directly expelled from the entire family.
Now it seems that there is no difference between the appearance of Muggles and pure bloods.
This concept was changed in Azkaban.
The whole Azkaban was filled with criminals who were tortured beyond recognition, except for Dementors. Only once every few months could they occasionally see patrolling wizard guards. When they were free from Dementors, some of the rational prisoners would gather on the rocky shore of Azkaban, looking into the distance, hoping to see something alive.
The ocean was boundless at that time, just like the sky. Sometimes she felt that the sky and the ocean were actually connected. At this time, a ferry would slowly pass by. It was a huge steel ship of the Muggles, sometimes a passenger ship, and most of the time a cargo ship. When the weather was good, the crew and passengers stood on the deck, looking around, talking and laughing, and slowly sailed towards the land they could not see.
The lowly Muggles breathed the free air at will, and the pure-blood prisoners quietly waited for death.
"..."
Two slight air tremors followed, and two figures appeared behind the witch, with the tip of the wand pointed directly at her heart.
"Bellatrix, put down your weapons."
"Give up resistance, come back to the Ministry with us to stand trial, and confess your crimes." Rita Skeeter shouted at the Death Eaters in front of her, but subconsciously stepped back and hid behind the members of the Order of the Phoenix next to her. "The mysterious man has been completely eliminated, and the Death Eaters have all been arrested. You are a smart person, don't try to resist, hand in your wand and cooperate with us. I have a good relationship with Dumbledore. When I return to the Ministry of Magic, I can plead with the Wizengamot to reduce your sentence appropriately.
"Don't make the wrong choice. Although there are only two of us, it is enough to deal with you. There are also Aurors from the Ministry of Magic and the American Magic Congress nearby. If you resist, I will notify them immediately. Those people are not as easy to talk to as me."
Bellatrix's mouth curled up slightly with a sarcastic arc: "You still dare not call him by his name."
Rita Skeeter was not angered: "I don't call that name directly not because of fear, but because of the habit left over from the past. You have been absconding since Easter, and I have been mixed in with you. Didn't he find me? What Dark Lord, what Voldemort, they were defeated, and not just once. When I return to England, I will definitely write a book to record his story in detail. "
Bellatrix looked cold and slowly looked at the person next to her.
She was a witch whose age could not be seen. She looked only about 30 years old, but her eyes were extremely vicissitudes, as if she was already 70 or 80 years old. She exuded a strange temperament. She did not look like a wizard, but rather like some kind of beast, like... a python.
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes slightly, and her tone was a little regretful: "If the master had seen you earlier, he would have been very happy."
He has always been close to snakes, snake-related ornaments, snake-related black magic, and especially close to poisonous and ferocious snakes with magical powers.
Nagini frowned, and her wand emitted a faint light, pointing at the Death Eater sitting on the edge of the wall: "Bellatrix, your master has been killed, your accomplices have surrendered, give up resistance. "
Bellatrix tilted her head and reached out to grab the wand beside her. Just as the two of them were tense and alert, she suddenly jumped down and fell straight down.
"Bella..." Rita Skeeter hurried forward to see.
Nagini was even more agile. She came to the wall in the blink of an eye, grabbed the railing with one hand, twisted her waist and swung out a long tail, hooked the falling Bellatrix, and quickly wrapped her body, strangled her with a little force, and quickly threw her back to the roof.
"Bang."
The sound of the body falling to the ground was a little dull.
Rita blinked, glanced at the unconscious Death Eater on the ground, and then looked at Nagini. The scaly tail quickly retracted into the hem of her skirt, and her eyes were calm.
She was a little stunned: "Are you also an Animagus? Why can you use transformation so well? Why didn't you say it before..."
Nagini lowered her eyes, her eyes swept across Bellatrix's belly, and she sighed imperceptibly, with a complicated expression.
...
Perhaps after a long time, or perhaps no time at all, Harry's consciousness gradually woke up from the chaos, and he slowly opened his eyes.
He was lying in a bright mist, which was like steam, and like the silver light emitted by the Patronus Charm, with a faint glow. Everything he could see around him was silver mist, and the ground he was lying on was also silver mist, neither cold nor hot, neither soft nor hard.
He had seen this kind of silver mist before, which was not real, but just a conceptual thing, between illusion and reality, between life and death.
"Blurred illusion..."
Harry thought of the promise his mother had made, and many things came together, and he figured it all out.
He sat up and checked his body. His limbs were intact, his facial features were normal, but he felt a little embarrassed to be naked. As soon as this thought came to his mind, a set of wizard robes immediately appeared and he put them on easily.
Harry stood up and began to explore the surroundings. Wherever his eyes touched, the silver mist condensed into a scene with a shape. The sun began to fall, the ground began to solidify, and a bright and clean space was constructed.
There was no longer a desolate silence in his ears, and subtle sounds began to come out -
Strange collisions and whimpers.
Harry looked in the direction of the sound and found a naked child under a seat. His skin was rough and red, as if he had been skinned. He curled up on the ground and kept trembling. He was petite and weak, which should have made people feel pity, but when Harry saw it, he felt an uncontrollable disgust in his heart.
"Stay away from him."
A gentle voice sounded, and Lily Potter was walking towards him, smiling, walking briskly, and wearing a flowing long dress.
"Harry, you are such an outstanding child, such a brave man..." Lily opened her arms and made a hugging gesture, her body solid, without any sign of transparency, "I said, we will see each other again..."
Harry paused, and suddenly rushed over, feeling the real and warm embrace of his mother, and his eyes were hot.
Lily stroked his back again and again, like comforting a baby: "I said, I said..."
"Am I dead?"
"I don't think so, my dear son."
"There are still some things I don't understand."
"Then you can only wait until you wake up and ask Headmaster Dumbledore. Now let's go, we'll go see your father..."
The two strode away from the sobbing red-skinned child lying there, and the voices left along the way quickly dissipated.
The two figures gradually disappeared in the silver mist. The illusion built by Harry's soul gradually dissipated. The silver mist slowly blocked the sunlight and disappeared under the solid seat. The sobbing and crying of the red-skinned child gradually stopped. Just when the silver mist was about to drown it, a figure walked in.
Dumbledore was wearing a flowing dark blue robe. He looked around with curious eyes and muttered to himself:
"Well... this adventure is not quite what we thought.
"We are not really dead, we are just here for a short visit.
"Oh yes, Fawkes, I know, I know..."
Dumbledore saw the thing under the seat, like an abandoned child, whose skin was cracked by the severe blizzard, peeling off a layer of bloody flesh, and the little thing was shivering and struggling to breathe.
The blue eyes were deep and bright, but there was no mercy in them.
Dumbledore came to the chair and sat down. The quiet silver mist flowed like a stream, blocked outside, as if only a small piece of chair was left in the huge world.
He took out a black gem from his arms calmly. There was a strange symmetrical mark on the surface of the gem, a triangle, a circle and a vertical line, and a crack in the middle.
He placed the gem on the forehead of the red-skinned child, and the strange magic stirred up a raging storm.
The quietly flowing silver mist suddenly rolled up, and the shrill wind whistled, as if a storm was brewing, and it was like the crying of evil spirits.
There was no concept of time here. I don’t know how long it took, but a dark blue ghost suddenly emerged from the silver mist, circled outside the chair for several circles, and went straight into the red-skinned child.
Dumbledore had a calm expression, sitting on the chair and waiting quietly, pushing his half-moon glasses, stroking his long beard, and when the time was almost up, he took back the Resurrection Stone slowly.
Seven mists entered the child's body one after another. Every time a ghost merged into it, the child grew a little. When the seven ghosts were completely merged, the child had completely turned into an adult, Tom Riddle.
This face was not the one shaped by the resurrection ceremony. The nose was still there, but the eyes were not so scarlet, not so snake-like, and not as handsome as in his school days. The face seemed to have been boiled in a crucible, with blurred and distorted features, bloodshot whites, pale skin, and a black cloak.
Dumbledore on the chair looked relaxed and not surprised. These changes were obviously expected: "Good evening, Tom, sit down."
"Dumbledore..."
Voldemort stared at him coldly, and fine lines appeared on his body from time to time. This body was just a few soul fragments temporarily gathered together, and there was a risk of collapse and shattering at any time: "Are you dead too?"
"I don't think so. I just came here to visit with the help of the magical power of the phoenix nirvana and Harry's wonderful soul state."
A hidden red light flashed in Voldemort's eyes: "Why am I here?"
"Perhaps Loren's flame contains the magic of salvation, or perhaps your messy black magic worked, who knows?" Dumbledore smiled, "In short, you are trapped here, unable to go to the world of the dead, unable to return to the world of the living, your eyes can't see the scene, your voice can't be responded to, this body is only pieced together by the magic of the Resurrection Stone, your soul will be divided into pieces, forever suffering in the void and nothingness."
Cracks appeared all over Voldemort's body, and the figure of the red-skinned child kept flickering, looming.
He tried to stay calm, but still couldn't suppress his hideous and hateful expression.
Roaring, sobbing, crying...
Different sounds emanated from this body.
"Quiet!"
Voldemort's scolding was like several voices overlapping together, emitting a resonant echo. He spent a lot of effort to stabilize it, and looked at Dumbledore with a sinister look: "Tell me what these are doing, what do you want?" ?”
"Experiencing the most feared death in your life, I thought maybe you would have some changes." Dumbledore sat aside and quietly observed his struggle, his attitude almost indifferent. "Perhaps you would want to repent for your past crimes. Take some remedial measures.”
"You want to trade with me?"
Voldemort narrowed his eyes and slowed down his speech, as if he had turned back into the all-powerful Dark Lord, "I'm dead, what are you worried about, or...what do you want?"
"Tell me about the memories you got from Slytherin, about the future, about the prophecy."
"What do I get?"
"Well..." Dumbledore pondered for a moment and said solemnly, "In this endless void space, before you sink completely, I can occasionally chat with you."
"Maybe many people want to chat with you, but they don't include me."
Voldemort looked gloomy, staring straight into those blue eyes, trying to find some signs of bargaining, blackmail, and blackmail: "You are worried about Mr. Morgan, the sage who came into being, and you wonder why the great Merlin and Fairy Morgan chose him. Are you curious about what Slytherin left behind... You should also know what I want?"
But Dumbledore didn't respond, his gentle and calm eyes were almost indifferent.
Voldemort sneered: "If you cannot meet my conditions, I would rather you die in endless regret. Maybe we can meet again then!"
Dumbledore looked at him through the half-moon lenses for a while and said calmly: "Goodbye then, Tom."
Just when Voldemort was about to say something more, Dumbledore suddenly waved his sleeves, and the broad sleeves of his robe swept across the body, and the ghosts and children inside suddenly collapsed.
The quiet space became lively again, the silver mist rolled, the blurry illusion flickered and trembled, the ghosts let out sobbing sobs, vicious curses, hysterical roars, various sounds intertwined together, emitting a mournful and shrill resonance.
Dumbledore didn't look back and stepped into the fog.