Hogwarts: I am Voldemort.

Chapter 439 Ghost Dance
Voldemort, who was dancing, stopped suddenly.

It didn't take long, like three to five seconds.

But when he opened his eyes again, his demeanor changed.

Mingming was still wearing the same Fengya wizard robe, and his long hair was still draped smoothly behind his back.

But looking at his back from behind, he always felt a little less of the elegance of the past, and a little more... a roughness that he had never seen before.

rough?

Looking at Voldemort's back, the few people felt that they must be crazy.

You can use words like vicious, evil, and vicious to describe the Dark Lord.

He can also be described as handsome, elegant, or even beautiful.

But rough and crazy, what the hell is this?

But when several people were astonished, Voldemort in front of him did something that surprised them even more.

"My name is Fengzhongcai, and I am from the Sioux tribe."

The clear voice in the past is actually a little hoarse at this moment.

And the dance that followed it was also full of the unique flavor of the tribal people.

Rough, savage, bohemian, this is what tribal people look like when they dance.

And Voldemort's movements and demeanor were exactly the same as theirs.

"Your Majesty the Dark Lord... what's the matter?"

Luna asked suspiciously, but unfortunately no one could answer her question.

And with the same doubts, there are those tribal witches who are still dancing.

They also couldn't understand why Voldemort, who stopped dancing again, became different?

Voldemort ignored their doubts, and at this time, he still hadn't escaped from the memories scattered in the wind.

Even the memory belonging to Voldemort is only quietly awakening, and does not occupy the main consciousness.

In other words.

At this moment, most of Voldemort belongs to the wind, and only his weak self is quietly awakening.

And even this weak self, at the moment of awakening, was not eager to gain control of the body.

in contrast.

He carefully concealed himself, and tried his best to let the will emanating from the wind continue to jump down.

At the same time, he tried hard to feel it.

Explore whether the singing, dancing, and a pious heart he never had had the power of faith.

At first, he was sure that the power of faith did not appear.

In this state of his soul wandering outside his body, his senses are more acute than usual.

But slowly, as the wind spread more and more into the sacrificial dance, he began to feel the gathering of different forces.

The singing voice has a unique rhythm like a mantra.

But it's different.

The chanting of mantras is more of a standardized chanting, without emotion and more rational.

The singing during the sacrificial dance does not have precise control over the rhythm.

On the contrary, the emotional input is more than the control of rhythm and pitch.

Correspondingly, the same is true for dance.

Its corresponding swing movement, for wizards, the first thing to learn is the standard swing rhythm and range.

But the dance in the sacrificial dance does not need to care so much about body movements or step frequency.

More, it is to convey the unique temperament of a tribe.

As for how to grasp and handle this temperament, if you are not a member of this tribe, you really can't do it well.

Voldemort quietly comprehended everything in the depths of his consciousness, and at the same time, tried to chase the rising power of faith and approach the totem.

He is very curious about the final ownership and function of these forces.

As his separated consciousness began to approach the totem, there was a faint sound like sea waves.

"Crash... Crash..."

The rhythm of the voice actually matched the singing of the tribal witches.

Voldemort's consciousness continued to move closer until it was almost attached to the totem pole.

Then, his consciousness was suddenly sucked in by the totem pole.

"Crash... Crash..."

The sound of sea water filled my ears, and the surroundings were also filled with the colorful blackness, but my consciousness didn't feel the slightest squeeze.

He tried to control these powers of faith, but when his consciousness moved, those powers of faith surged up.

"Crash..."

This time, even the people outside noticed the noise.

When they looked at this totem pole, it happened that those powers of faith flew out of the totem pole along with the sound of the raging waves.

They were in clusters and scattered all over the place.

As soon as it left the totem pole, it seemed to be dominated by the dance that made it up again, turning into human figures, large or small, and began to dance in the air.

At the beginning, a group of tribal witches watched while dancing.

But gradually, they all stopped moving, and their eyes widened in surprise.

And when those black villains hovered around the totem pole and started dancing in place, the wild horse witch among them suddenly shouted "ghost dance".

The sound seemed to have opened something, and all the tribal witches immediately fell to their knees excitedly, paying homage non-stop.

Voldemort's consciousness, which was no more found in the totem pole, had returned to the body by this time.

In his body, the consciousness emanating from the wind also shattered as his consciousness returned and reunited.

The next moment, Voldemort became Voldemort again, and Emanation in the Wind had completely disappeared.

"Amazing experience."

Voldemort murmured, looking at the little figure floating in the air.

They were returning to the totem pole as Voldemort's consciousness left.

"It's the ghost dance that the prophet Wauka said. The sleeping ancestors will be awakened, the buffalo will return to the earth, the white people will leave, and the Sioux will regain their land."

The Sword Wizard suddenly roared excitedly, and began to kowtow to the totem pole that Voldemort's consciousness had entered before.

"what's the situation?"

Voldemort approached the steppe witch who stood up, and asked him softly.

"A great prophet of the Sword Tribe once predicted the 'Ghost Dance' 100 years ago, but I didn't expect it to come true today." The Grassland Witch said solemnly.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

If the prophecy is true, is there me in the prophecy?
He showed his prophetic eyes curiously, and looked at the sword witch who was still bowing down to his totem pole.

White light, golden flame.

Sure enough, this guy is the destiny of the Indians.

Voldemort looked at the prairie witch next to him again, which made the prairie witch who was looking at him tremble, probably frightened by Voldemort's strange red eyes.

White light, golden flame.

Good guy, another child of destiny.

Voldemort couldn't help but looked at the other tribal witches, and found that there were quite a lot of Destiny's Children. The difference was nothing more than the brightness of the white light and the height of the golden flame.

Among the tribal witches, the four witches had the brightest light and the highest flame.

Among the four witches, the knife witch is the most eye-catching.

"Between reason and will, the latter seems to have won."

Voldemort murmured, slowly extinguishing the light in his right eye.

"what is that?"

It wasn't until the light disappeared completely that the grassland wizard asked him suspiciously.

"The eyes of the prophet, grassland witch, I am also a prophet."

After Voldemort answered with a smile, he saw the prairie witch's eyes widen in surprise.

①This is a real person and event, I wish the dead rest in peace and get their wishes fulfilled.

(End of this chapter)