Harry Potter and the Old Ones

When Harry was dragged by the hurricane to the middle of the maze, he saw this scene-

Tiera stood there, holding a bone sword pierced into the ground in his right hand, and a huge horn in his left hand. The wound of the Triwizard Tournament trophy radiated from his back, like a pair of wings.

Tiera just stood there like this, looking at Harry with a smile on her face, just looking at Harry with that smile.

The violent hurricane pushed Harry in front of Tiera.

Tiera let go of the sword in her right hand, dropped the horn in her left hand, and pulled Harry's hand.

"Tiera, you..." Harry looked at the blood that solidified on Tiera's chest in a panic, and asked anxiously, "Are you injured?"

"It's fine, it's just a minor injury." Tiera said with a smile—

His smile was hidden in the brilliance of the trophy, his smile was hidden in the shadow of glory, he just smiled and took Harry's hand with a smile——

"Let's go, Harry, let's go." Tiera's voice was indifferent, and Gu Jingwu waved, "Come with me, Harry, come with me, and hold the trophy with me."

"It's our glory, it's really our glory, think about it, Harry, think about it, it's Hogwarts, it's double the glory of Gryffindor... ..”

"Double... Glory?" Harry looked at Tiera with some fascination, at his face stained with dried blood, and at his eyes with enchanting brilliance.

"Okay!" Harry laughed happily, Harry said with a happy smile, holding Tiera's hand tightly, "Okay! Double the glory! Come on, Tiera, let's get the double Double the glory!"

The two raised their hands above the glittering handle of the trophy.

"Is it okay to count to three?" Harry asked happily, in a light tone. "One-two-three-"

At the same time, he and Tiera grabbed a handle of the trophy.

Harry suddenly felt as if he had been pulled behind his belly button—

His legs were off the ground, but he couldn't let go of the hand holding the three-strong cup, it dragged him forward in the midst of the whistling wind and swirling colors, with Tiera beside him.

Harry felt his feet hit the ground, his injured leg softened, he fell to the ground, and finally let go of the Triwizard Cup.

He looked up and found it was pitch black around him.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, instinctively looking at Tiera, but Harry found out—

Tiera had already stood up, like a piece of wood, upright, standing there stiffly, the expression on his face disappeared—

The brilliance in his eyes also disappeared.

Tiera's eyes were dull and demented, and she stared straight ahead.

It seemed that all the spiritual energy in Tiera disappeared in an instant.

While shaking Tiera, Harry looked around—

It's completely out of Hogwarts territory, and they've apparently flown miles—

Possibly hundreds of miles, because even the hills surrounding the castle were gone.

They were standing on a dark overgrown cemetery, with the black silhouette of a chapel behind a tall yew tree on the right and a hill on the left, Harry could make out a fine old house on the hillside .

"I've been here before!" Harry's breathing suddenly became rapid. "I've been here before! Tiera! Get back to the trophy, quick!"

Harry used the greatest strength he had ever had in his life, trying to drag Tiera to run over, but—

Tiera didn't move at all, still standing where she was.

Suddenly, Harry's scar was in severe pain. He had never felt such severe pain in his life.

Harry's wand slid to the ground. He covered his face with his hands, and his legs fell to the ground. He couldn't see anything, and his head seemed to explode, as if someone took a branding iron and wanted to split his head.

Immediately afterwards, in the darkness, a figure walked towards them step by step between the graves. Harry couldn't make out the man's face, but from the gait and the posture of his arms, it looked like the man was holding something. He was small in stature and wore a hooded cloak that covered his face. Taking a few steps closer—the distance between them was shrinking, and Harry could see that the man was holding something like a baby—

try{mad1(\'gad2\');}catch(ex){} Or just a bag of clothes?

"One more Imperius Curse on that Mudblood!" Harry heard someone shouting and grimly commanding far above his head.

"Soul out of body!"

——It turns out to be so, it turns out to be so.

In the severe pain, Harry thought, it turned out that Tiera was under the Imperius Curse.

After chanting the spell, the short man in the cloak had put down his baggage, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry towards the marble tombstone. Harry saw a name in the flickering light of his wand, before being shoved over and slammed his back against the tombstone.

Tom Riddle

The man in the cloak waved his wand and used magic to conjure ropes that tied Harry tightly to the tombstone, one after another from neck to ankle.

Harry heard rapid, light breathing from inside the hood.

He struggled hard, and the man hit him—

The hand that hit him was missing a finger. Harry knew who was inside the hood, Wormtail.

"It's you!" Harry exclaimed in shock and anger.

But Wormtail didn't answer.

He had finished tying the rope and was busy checking whether it was tight.

His fingers trembled uncontrollably, fumbling for the knots, and when he was sure Harry was **** and couldn't move, Wormtail took a black thing out of his cloak and rudely stuffed it. into Harry's mouth.

Then, without saying a word, he hurried away, and Harry couldn't make a sound or see where Wormtail went. He couldn't turn his head to look behind the tombstone, he could only see the scene directly in front of him—

But Harry tried his best to turn his head over, wriggling his tightly bound body, trying his best to move to the side—

Because Tiera was there, because Tiera was standing next to the tombstone Harry was bound to—

Harry tried hard to get closer to Tiera, and Harry tried hard to get closer to Tiera.

He must be scared now—

Harry thought, Tiera must be scared.

Harry was so anxious that he was about to cry.

But where Harry couldn't see, in the shadow of the tombstone, Tiera was no longer standing so straight, and was looking at everything that happened in the center of the cemetery with interest.

Just then, Harry heard voices at his feet, looked down, and saw a large snake meandering in the grass, circling around his tombstone.

Wormtail's wheezing wheezing sounded again, as if he was pushing something heavy. Then he came into Harry's sight and pushed a stone cauldron under the grave.

The crucible seems to be full of water—

Harry heard splashes. This cauldron was bigger than any cauldron Harry had ever used, and could hold an adult sitting in it.

The things in the bag on the ground moved more vigorously, as if they were about to break free. Wormtail was busy dabbing at the bottom of the cauldron with his wand. Suddenly there was a crackling flame from under the cauldron.

The serpent swam into the darkness.

The liquid in the crucible seemed to heat up very quickly. Not only did the surface begin to boil, but sparks erupted as if on fire. The steam grew thicker and thicker, and the figure of Wormtail, who was watching the flames, became blurred.

The bag moved more quickly, and Harry heard that sharp, cold voice again.

"quick!"

Now the whole surface of the water was sparkling, as if studded with diamonds.

"It's burnt, Master."

"Now..." said the cold voice.

Wormtail tore off the pack on the ground, revealing what was inside.

Harry let out a scream, but was choked by the stuff in his mouth.

As if Wormtail slammed over a rock, revealing a slimy, ugly, eyeless thing—

No, it's even scarier than that, a hundred times scarier. What Wormtail carried looked like a crouched baby, but Harry had never seen anything less baby-like. It has no hair, and it seems to have scales on its body. Its skin is dark and red, like tender meat that has been injured. Its arms and legs were thin and soft, and its face—

No living child has such a face—

It is a flat snake face with a pair of sparkling red eyes.

The thing looked completely incapable of taking care of itself. It raised its thin arms around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail held it in his hands. Then Wormtail's pocket fell off, and Harry saw the look of disgust on his pale, feeble face in the firelight.

try{mad1(\'gad2\');}catch(ex){} Wormtail carried the thing to the edge of the cauldron, and for a split second Harry saw the throbbing spray on the surface of the potion illuminate the evil flat face. Wormtail put the thing into the cauldron, and it sank with a hiss.

Harry heard the soft sound of its limp body hitting the bottom of the cauldron.

Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost unbearably, please... let it drown...

Wormtail was talking, and his voice was extraordinarily calm.

He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky: "Father's bone, donated by accident, can make your son regenerate!"

The characters are round and round, and the articulation is clear.

The grave under Harry's feet cracked open, and Harry was horrified to see a small wisp of dust rising into the air at Wormtail's call, falling gently into the cauldron. The diamond-like liquid surface cracked, hissed, sparks flew, and the liquid turned a bright red blue, poisonous at first sight.

Wormtail drew a long, thin, silvery dagger from under the cloak again.

"The flesh and blood of a servant, donated voluntarily, can regenerate your master."

He stretched out his right hand—

It was the hand with one finger missing, which seemed to be wearing a glove.

At this time, I don't know if it was dizziness, Harry seemed to see a red light running down Peter Pettigrew's arm to his hand.

Then Peter Pettigrew grabbed the dagger tightly with his left hand and swung it toward his right hand.

Harry didn't realize what Wormtail was going to do at the last second, and only then did Harry suddenly recall the prophecy Tiera had inadvertently revealed in his third-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class—

He closed his eyes tightly, but couldn't stop the scream piercing the night sky from piercing into Harry's body, as if he had been stabbed by a dagger too.

Harry heard something fall, Wormtail gasps in pain, followed by a disgusting plop, something being thrown into the cauldron.

Harry didn't want to look at it... but the potion turned fiery red, and a strong light shot into Harry's closed eyes...

Wormtail gasped and moaned in pain. Harry only realized Wormtail was in front of him when the painful breath sprayed into his face.

"Qi, the blood of the enemy... forced to give... to make your enemy... resurrect."

Harry couldn't stop it, he was tied too tightly... He struggled desperately to break free from the ropes that bound him, and he saw the silver dagger trembling in Wormtail's single hand through the slit of his eyes.

He felt the tip of the dagger pierced into his arms~www.wuxiamtl.com~ and blood dripped down the torn sleeve of the robe.

Wormtail, who was still panting in pain, shivered and took out a small glass bottle from his pocket and placed it next to Harry's wound, and a small amount of blood flowed into the bottle.

He staggered towards the cauldron with Harry's blood and poured it into it. The liquid in the crucible immediately turned blinding white. Wormtail completed the task, knelt beside the cauldron, slumped on the ground, and gasped and sobbed while holding his **** severed arm.

The cauldron was about to boil, and diamond-like sparks flew out, so bright and dazzling that everything around them turned a black velvet color.

Hopefully it's drowned, Harry thought, and hopefully it won't work...

Suddenly, the spark on the crucible went out. A white vapor rose from the cauldron, obscuring everything in front of Harry. He couldn't see Wormtail and Cedric, all he could see was a white vapour... sure didn't work... it drowned... please... please let it die...

Then, through the white fog in front of him, he saw in horror the black figure of a man slowly rising from the crucible, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

"Cloth me," said the cold, shrill voice behind the steam.

Wormtail whimpered and moaned, still protecting his stump arm, and hurriedly grabbed the bundled black robe from the ground, stood up, and put one hand over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron and stared at Harry... Harry saw the face that had been in his nightmares for three years, paler than a skeleton, with big red eyes and a nose as flat as a snake's nose. The nostrils are two slits...

Voldemort is resurrected.