Hogwarts: I am Voldemort.

Chapter 437 Singing, dancing and piety

Moving forward along the heights, everyone finally came to a valley.

In the valley, dozens of huge totems are arranged in an orderly manner.

"This is the totem pole of all the existing clans of the Sioux. We will ask them here, hoping to get their enlightenment."

After the prairie witch finished speaking, she motioned for Voldemort and others to wait aside.

And he himself took the lead, leading a group of tribal witches forward.

"Totem, your believers beg you to enlighten our wisdom and tell us how to choose..."

The prairie witch briefly described the predicament he was facing, and prayed for the totem to show him clearly.

After that, a group of tribal witches lined up in an orderly manner, and then the riverside witch stepped forward alone.

He came to a group of totem poles, turned around and stood still.

Then, he took out a quana from his waist and slowly put it to his mouth.

"Woo~~"

The low, thick, and vicissitudes of life sounded suddenly, making the hearts of everyone who had just heard what the prairie witch narrated trembled inexplicably.

The tune changes from straight to tactful, but at the transition, there is always the sound of breath passing through the woodwind.

This voice made the vicissitudes of life a bit more bleak and chilling.

"Hey~hey~hey~hey~hey~"

The tribal witches suddenly spoke in unison, stepped on the melodious sound of the Gaina flute, and murmured in a tone like grinding their teeth and whispering.

The voice wasn't pleasant, and even revealed a weirdness.

But as soon as it appeared, it suddenly made people's hearts sink, and then there seemed to be pain flowing out of it, so astringent that it made people feel weak all over.

In such a situation, until the "ah" in the voice disappears, leaving only the long and euphemistic "hey" sound, it makes people feel better.

But as the bitterness in my heart disappeared, sadness began to fill my heart again.

As if in an instant, the sadness of a nation's life and death emerged overwhelmingly.

"call."

Voldemort heard the sound of exhaling from behind, as if he wanted to spit out the distress he had heard in his heart.

He glanced sideways, and found that it was Neville, who was sluggish in words, who was writhing his body uneasily with a sour face.

Voldemort looked away from him, and when he turned to look at the tribe of witches again, he saw them start dancing.

That movement has nothing to do with elegance, but the rough and unrestrained movements revealed a kind of primitive and vicissitudes of beauty.

In addition to the sound of the Gaina flute of the witches by the river, and the chants from the mouths of the witches.

The picture in front of him has magically become quite harmonious.

"I've seen those scenes before."

Count Dracula, who was half a step behind Voldemort, suddenly spoke in a deep voice.

"What?" Voldemort turned to look at him suspiciously.

"I've seen those people, how they were treated."

Count Dracula watched the dancing Indians, and said with blurred eyes, "I was walking in the night fog that day, and the night wind blew away the thick fog, revealing endless rows of crosses and naked bodies. People are hung from it in the same posture."

"Are they dead?" Luna asked softly.

"No." Count Dracula whispered.

Voldemort looked away from Count Dracula's face, and looked again at the dancing tribal witches.

The moonlight covered them with silver clothes and illuminated their eyes.

Those gazes were mixed with piety and sadness, as if they could travel through time and space, and saw the fall of the Indians in the long-dissipated gunpowder smoke.

"call."

Finally, Voldemort couldn't help letting out a breath, and shook his head vigorously.

This feeling of being shrouded in sadness made him very uncomfortable.

In order to shake off his emotions, he looked at the totem poles.

His eyes wandered among the totem poles, and he carefully looked at the totem patterns.

Each one is very complicated and delicate, and under the moonlight, it seems to reflect silver light.

"and many more?"

Voldemort's eyes suddenly widened.

Just for a moment, he seemed to see a different color from the silver light.

And that color was not the first time Voldemort had seen it.

To make sure he wasn't dazzled, he stepped closer to the totem pole.

This caught the attention of everyone behind him, and Count Dracula raised his hand to hold Voldemort, but stopped after hesitating.

And Voldemort, who took a few steps forward, also stopped quickly.

Not because he realized that this scene is not suitable for walking around, but because he found that the color completely disappeared during the movement.

Still in place, Voldemort began to observe the lights carefully.

Slowly, the changes in the silver light were captured by him again.

Colorful black, reddish green in white.

I can't tell what color it is, it's weird and obscure, as if it changes all the time, and it seems that he is such an indescribable color.

He had seen this color on the mysterious coffin in the Pyramid of Khufu.

"This is... the power of faith?" Voldemort murmured in surprise.

He was stunned by the scene in front of him, and he didn't get out of the shock for a long time.

It wasn't until the singing and dancing of the tribal witches came to a climax, and the voice of "Hey" became louder and louder, that he finally woke up from the shock.

"Faith, faith..."

He muttered this word in his mouth, and his whole person seemed to be possessed by a demon.

The few people who approached looked at each other suspiciously, not understanding what happened to Voldemort.

But Voldemort didn't take them into consideration at all, and kept wandering among the tribal witches and totem poles with his eyes straight.

Finally, Voldemort set his sights on the tribal witch.

"If singing a song is like casting a spell, if dancing your body is like waving a magic wand, if piety in your heart is like magic in your body, then..."

Voldemort's murmured voice became more and more excited, "Then the power of faith formed can be counted as a curse?"

This surprising discovery made Voldemort unable to resist trying it immediately.

He learned the movements of the tribal witches, learned their voices, and moved with their footsteps.

This strange behavior scared everyone behind him at a loss.

But Voldemort obviously didn't care about them, he just kept trying and trying.

Unfortunately, seeing that the music was coming to an end, Voldemort still got nothing.

And the riverside witch, who had noticed him, frowned while playing the qana.

His expression also attracted the prairie witch to look at Voldemort.

When he noticed Voldemort's movement, he immediately gestured to the River Witch.

After being signaled by the prairie witch, the riverside witch suddenly changed his tone and actually played the tune again.

And Voldemort, who noticed all this, danced in surprise and excitement, and devoted himself fully, trying to generate the power of faith.

Slowly, his pronunciation became more and more standard, and his movements became more and more perfect.

It's a pity that he exhausted all his energy, but he couldn't give birth to a pious heart.

This made him stop his movements helplessly, and anxiously thought about countermeasures.

"How do you get a Muggle who has learned to cast spells and wave a wand to use magic?"

He asked himself such a question, but it seemed that there was no solution to this problem at all.

(End of this chapter)