Harry Potter Morning Light

Chapter 1044 The clue that popped up
The Death Swamp is located in a valley. It seems to be a vast area of ​​water, but it is actually a large network connected by countless ponds and soft mud, as well as criss-crossing paths.The swamps are full of black and foul-smelling mud pools, and they evaporate into thick, disgusting fog, and thick dark clouds are entrenched in the sky all year round.

Iron-blue weeds and large reeds grow here, snakes and insects live here, but there are no birds. A stone Roman-style blockhouse is located on the edge of the swamp, not far from the exit of the valley, even after passing It is still standing after years of wind and sun, and there is a cement road outside the valley, and it seems that occasionally there are muggles walking their dogs and running by here.

"He shouldn't have told them that they can rest after two more days of persistence." Hermione followed Harry with her wand raised. The ground was not only covered with water but also moss, which was wet and slippery and would fall if one was not careful.

"Maybe werewolves don't go to football games to make trouble, but also baseball, horse racing..."

"You don't understand at all, Hermione." Ron interrupted her chatter. "They're doing this to scream, and the werewolves want to fight us."

"You think so, too, Harry?" said Hermione, looking at Harry.

"I don't know." Harry held up his wand, looking around the dark corridor, "but I think I'm the only one here looking for clues about Voldemort."

"I've looked for this place, and there's nothing in it," Ron explained.

"If he's been here for a while there's always a reason," Harry said. "The last time he went to Albania was because the Ravenclaw diadem was there."

"You think there's something he's hiding here?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, that's why we're here, isn't it?" said Harry grimly.

"In such a dangerous place with those poisonous snakes, I think you must be crazy." Ron looked around carefully with a bitter face, as if he was afraid that some former Death Eater would suddenly appear and attack the three of them.

"Don't worry, they won't," Hermione reassured.

"how do you know?"

"They still want to go back to the Ministry of Magic, so they dare not mess around."

"You provoked them so much just now, they all put up with it, Ron." Harry said back.

The castle itself was not big, and with so many people added, the search was quickly completed. Except for a graffiti-like wing and the word "revenge", they found nothing. It seemed that this was just a place he passed by.

"He's going north," said Hermione. "From Malfoy Manor to the Dead Marshes, this road goes north."

"So...he wants to go back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked with a pale face.

"I don't know." Harry said in a deep voice, "Come on, let's go out, there's nothing to check inside."

"I told you..." Ron wanted to say something, but Hermione pulled his sleeve and shut his mouth.

Nobody can strangle themselves, but Pete Pedirou did it, by his fake silver hand, his body was found by the people who cleaned the battlefield, and then disappeared, no one noticed at first, thinking It was removed and buried by others.

When Harry arrived at the castle gate, Zabini, hands behind his back, looking out over the lackluster landscape of the Dead Marshes, looked like a big shot now.

"Why don't you search inside?" Ron asked Zabini's back.

"Leaders don't need to do such trivial things," Zabini said vigorously.

"With Malfoy, it's not your turn to be the 'leader'." Ron said sarcastically, "Where did that little boy go?"

"Even if I knew, that's none of your business, Ron Weasley," Zabini said sinisterly.

"We're going to continue our search north of the swamp, are you going?" Harry asked.

Zabini glanced at the swampy muddy road, his facial features wrinkled into a ball.

"Can you tell me why this swamp is called the Death Swamp?" Hermione asked. "I know that there are secrets passed down from generation to generation among you purebloods."

"What good is it to tell you about me?" Zabini asked.

"No." Hermione frowned and answered Zabini's question, "We are now a cooperative relationship, and exchanging information with each other is a necessary basis."

"You heard her," Harry said to Zabini. "What's wrong with this swamp?"

Zabini paced slowly, as if weighing the pros and cons, and finally he said, "You know, Azkaban was built in the 15th century, and it has been a wizarding prison in England since 1718. However, as early as the Giant War, Dementors already exist..."

"I know this, it was created by a dark wizard." Ron yelled again.

"No, Extis just discovered a way to make Dementors, and the first Dementors were 'naturally generated', haunting the darkest and filthiest places, living in decay and despair, like A place like the Death Swamp." Zabini looked around and said, "Do you know how hopeless it feels to be stuck in a swamp and watch yourself sink a little bit?"

"You're saying that the first dementors were people who fell into a swamp?" Hermione asked.

"It's a Muggle. Wizards won't be as desperate as they are when they encounter a swamp. We have a lot of ways." Zabini looked at Ron, "I almost forgot, there are wizards like you, I heard you haven't learned yet. Apparate."

"So Extis lured Muggle sailors to that island," Harry murmured.

"What are they doing here? There's nothing here!" Hermione asked.

"Treasure, it is said that there is a dragon living somewhere in this swamp, and it has many treasures."

"That's bullshit," said Ron with a displeased face.

Zabini sneered indifferently.

"Let's go," Harry said to Ron and Hermione.

"Wait, you two, follow them," Zabini said to two of his men standing in the distance.

"No need." Ron said coldly.

"We have to protect your safety, lest others say we have other plans."

Harry didn't say anything in the end, and walked north along the direction of the swamp. It didn't take long before there was no solid dirt road, only soft mud.

"I'm so sorry I didn't bring my broomstick." Ron said, walking in the mud.

"If we were riding a broom, maybe we'd miss something," said Hermione. "How can a zombie walk such a difficult road!"

"Shhh." Harry gestured to Hermione to be silent, and the two Zabini men followed behind them, looking at the mud on their boots in disgust, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

"Aren't we telling them?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

"Kingsley said that Horcruxes are top secret." Harry said cautiously, "Go, we have to search this place before dark."

After speaking, he turned around and continued to trudge through the swamp.

"Hold out your hand, Wormtail."

In the Riddle family cemetery, Voldemort, who has regained his body, speaks to Pete Pedirou, who has lost a hand.

"Thank you, Master..." Wormtail said as he raised his severed hand.

"The other hand!" said Voldemort grimly.

Wormtail raised his hand tremblingly in horror.

Voldemort aimed his wand at the Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm, and soon, several black shadows flew in the sky.

Harry raised his head subconsciously, and a black cloth-like figure occasionally flashed in the leaden clouds, which looked a bit like a dementor.

He raised his wand, intending to call upon his Patronus.

But all he could hear were screams, women's screams, men's screams, Muggle screams, and Death Eater screams.

The Death Eaters who came to answer the question were rolled all over the floor by Voldemort, and Wormtail had been cowering and hiding aside.

"You came back to see me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of an old friend. You deserve this pain, Wormtail, you know that, don't you?" Voldemort asked after the anger had come out.

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please, Master...please".

"But you helped me back into my body," said Voldemort coldly, "although you were unfaithful and worthless, you helped me... The Dark Lord Voldemort will reward those who help him."

Voldemort raised the staff again and twirled it in the air.

There was a flash of silver where the wand passed, and suddenly it lost its shape again, writhing, forming a gleaming replica of a human hand.

It was as bright as the moon, and suddenly it swooped down and mounted on Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's crying stopped abruptly.

His breathing was harsh and ragged.

He looked up at the silver hand, almost in disbelief—it sat smoothly on his arm, as if wearing a dazzling glove.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, bringing Harry back from his thoughts.

He turned his head to look over and saw Ron kneeling on the ground, and an animal was sliding quickly across the surface of the swamp.

Harry ran over to check on Ron, his legs were cut and bleeding, and two people in the distance rushed over.

"Do you have white moss?" Hermione asked.

One of them took out a medicine bottle, and Hermione applied the powder with silver powder on Ron's leg, but the wound did not heal.

"What do you see?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I don't know, maybe a swamp digger," said Hermione.

"I've never heard of swamp diggers making dark magic wounds."

"They feed on adult mandrakes," said another man in black.

"Mandrakes like dry soil, though," said Hermione.

"It's also possible that someone raised them in the swamp."

"You guys are here, take care of Ron." Harry said to the crowd.

"where are you going?"

"Go get the swamp digger!" Harry said loudly.

"Two people here are enough, you follow!"

One of the two men in black went with Harry, and the one who remained with Hermione tended to Ron's wounds, but this had little effect, and Ron was already talking nonsense.

"We'll take him to St. Mungo's," said the man in black, pulling Hermione to Apparate.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"There is an anti-apparition spell here." The man in black looked around anxiously, "You stay here, I'll be right back!"

After speaking, he ran back towards the original road, and quickly disappeared into the fog.

　Ron said in Cursed Child that his leg suffered so badly that he could write a ballad

In addition, the spelling of Swamp Digger is very similar to that of Dementor. When Ron wrote a paper for Snape, the error correction ability of the quill had a problem. I think Snape will give him a taste of what real fear is.

　
(End of this chapter)