Living peacefully at Hogwarts

Chapter 197 A Little Wind Blows

Moody has been a little blue lately.

Because Dumbledore left him again and acted without authorization.

"Am I the extra one?"

Looking at the locket decorated with finely divided emeralds, the old "Mad-Eye" couldn't help muttering to himself, pushed away the cup of sweet honey tea, and took a gulp down the small flask that he carried with him. Flame Whiskey.

The bitter wine enters the throat, and the heart aches~
"The main reason is that I am afraid of any danger, so I...
Hehe, Alastor, don't mind. "

Dumbledore knew that he was suspected of treating his old friend as a "tool man", but he still believed that his decision was correct.

From cliff caves to Blake's old house, which one is not a dangerous place?
Alastor is so old, and his legs and feet are not good, in case something happens.
Take Klein multi-insurance.

That kid is very useful!

"Ah~"

Sighing, Alastor Moody suppressed the unhappiness in his heart, and carefully examined the newly acquired Voldemort's Horcrux - "Slytherin's Locket".

"Four more."

Muttering to himself, a flash of determination flashed in his eyes. (He didn't know that "Diary" and "Orochi" had been poisoned by someone)

"Ah."

Without meaning to explain, Dumbledore nodded with deep eyes.

The chips in their hands are increasing bit by bit.

Sooner or later, these chips will completely tilt the balance of victory!

"Ah!"

The cold wind was blowing on his bare head, and Peter, who was carrying a shovel, felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water from head to toe.

In January, when it was time for death, he didn't even have a decent coat, and he was still wearing that ragged suit.
Bitter.

When I was a mouse, I could at least have enough food and clothing, unlike now.

"Peter."

Peter was lost in thought.

Suddenly, a weak voice came from his mind, and Voldemort, who was attached to the back of Peter's head, opened his mouth halfway.

"Put your hood on, you idiot."

The great Lord Voldemort is full of wind!
Although, he doesn't have a stomach.

"Yes, obey, my great master."

Peter was obedient and obedient, covering the back of his head tightly.

He rubbed his dirty hands full of black mud, and kept looking around.

"Master, we should be here."

"Um"

Voldemort replied, not knowing whether he was tired or what, and fell into a long silence.

This is Little Hangleton, the Riddle family cemetery.

"Whoo~"

Hearing the affirmative answer, Peter was relieved.

All the way to evade the Ministry of Magic and "Death Bloom", they finally sneaked back to England, came here, and took the first step to make a comeback.

There were not many tombstones in the cemetery, and he quickly found his target: Tom Riddle.

Topple the tombstone and dig the grave.

Peter waved the stolen shovel and started digging hastily.

He has short hands and digs slowly.

But perseverance wins.

Anyway, the surrounding area was a piece of wasteland, and there was no one at all. He dug for a while and rested for a while, but nothing happened.

When it was daylight, Peter finally finished his work and saw the old and blackened coffin.

"Well."

Swallowing, he carefully cleaned up the soil around the coffin, and then put the shovel head against the edge of the coffin, and lifted it hard.

"Crench."

The old coffin made a toothache sound, accompanied by an indescribable stench.

Hearing the smell, Peter rolled his eyes up and almost fainted.

Fortunately, he is also a person who has experienced in strong winds and waves, barely maintained his sobriety, and did not make any jokes.

When the cold wind blew, the stench deposited in the coffin was almost gone. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the corpse in the coffin.

Well, it's not quite right to say it's a corpse.

Decades have passed, old Tom Riddle has rotted into a pile of bones.

"Very well. Peter you are doing well."

Voldemort's voice rang in his head again.

"Take his bones and let's go."

Voldemort had no affection for his father, only infinite disgust.

If it wasn't for the ancient rebirth magic that needed the "father's bone", he would have wished to revive old Tom Riddle at this moment, and kill him after torturing him!
"Well, master, can I bring the ashes?"

Looking at the bones in the coffin, Peter felt sad.

He is an unregistered Animagus, and because of his uniqueness, he can avoid the eyes and ears of many people and complete unexpected infiltrations.

It's too easy to expose if you wear a big bone stick on your body.

"Ok?"

Hearing Peter's proposal, Voldemort froze for a moment.

Theoretically speaking, "father's bone" is just a concept, what he needs for resurrection is the power of resentment in the dark, the ashes and bones are the same.

Frustrated?

Voldemort suddenly became excited, and said viciously.

"Good idea, burn it for me!"

If you can't break your bones in life, then let it be ashes after death.

After being aggrieved for so long, Voldemort finally came across something that went well with him, and even his feeling of weakness was relieved a lot under the understanding of his mind.

"As ordered."

You don't have the guts to kill, but arson is the best way to do it.

Peter grinned, brought a pile of dry branches, tried several times and finally lit the fire without a wand.

The fire was getting hotter and hotter. He picked up the bones in the coffin and threw them into the fire one by one.
The temperature is not enough, time comes together.

He burned for nearly five full hours before turning old Tom Riddle from a pile of bones to a pile of ashes.

"Put some away, and give me the rest!"

There was joy in the voice of the filial son Voldemort.

That bastard is not worthy of leaving any proof of his existence in this world!

"Yes, my master."

Such an easy job, much better than dealing with the Ministry of Magic or those lunatics from Deathbloom.Peter smiled obsequiously, tore off the rags from his clothes, wrapped some ashes, and put them away safely.

Then, he grabbed a handful of ashes that were still warm, and threw them into the sky with all his strength.

The ashes were blown by the wind and quickly dissipated.

"Hahahahahahaha, well, Peter, well done!"

Voldemort was overjoyed.

This is really the happiest time for him in the past two years.

Well done, but not enough!

"Give me all the ashes, give me all the ashes."

On the back of Peter's head, Voldemort's eyes were red and his expression was extremely ferocious.

Sooner or later, his enemies will be crushed by him like old Tom Riddle!
"Yes, Master!"

Although he was tired and hungry, but the master was happy, Peter had no choice but to pull himself together, grabbed a handful of ashes with both hands, just like before, and threw them into the sky with all his strength.

But at this moment, the accident happened.

The icy north wind howled past, and the ashes that had just been lifted up by Peter were blown back along the direction of the wind!

Before Peter, who opened his mouth wide, had time to react, his face was smeared with gray.

Um.
It tasted quite salty.

(End of this chapter)