HP Magic Biography

Harry's eyes were fixed on the sword, he heard the curse, the blood of the enemy, of course Voldemort's enemy...

Harry felt the point of the sword dig into the crook of his right arm. Blood dripped from his tattered clothes.

Little Barty Crouch, who was still panting in pain, took out a small glass medicine bottle from his pocket, and stretched it out to Harry's wound.

A large drop of blood went into the bottle.

He staggered back to the big stone gas pot with Harry's blood in his hand. Pour blood into it.

The liquid kept changing until it turned into an empty white.

Barty Crouch Jr. knelt by the boiler, exhausted, as if his work had been done.

Then he fell to the side, lying on the grass, panting and whimpering, clutching the bloody spot on his arm.

However, the expression on Barty Crouch Jr. made Fan Lin terrified. It was hard to imagine such enthusiasm...

The boiler boiled slowly, and sparks shot out again. Nothing else has changed...

Drown it... Harry said inwardly, let the whole thing go wrong.

Then all the sparks in the boiler suddenly went out. Instead, there was a huge puff of white smoke, covering everything in front of Harry.

He couldn't see Barty Crouch Jr. or the person who didn't want to mention his name, all he could see was the steam suspended in the air...

It's gone wrong, thought Harry, ...the monster is drowned...please...please God let it die...

Then, through the thick fog ahead of him, Harry saw with horror the dark silhouette of a man, tall and thin, rising slowly upward from the boiler.

Put clothes on me! A high, cold voice sounded from behind the fog.

Although Barty Crouch Jr. was still whimpering and moaning, he still shook his wound and crawled to pick up the pile of black clothes on the grass. Then he staggered to his feet, tiptoed, and with one hand he pulled the clothes over his master's head.

The whole process took less than ten seconds, but Fan Lin's heart became worse and worse.

A loyal Death Eater can dedicate everything to Voldemort, just like a fanatic in a religion, although he still retains his weakness, but...

The tall, thin man stepped out of the boiler and stared at Harry... and Harry stared at the hideous face that had haunted him for three years - paler than his skull, with big black red eyes , a flat nose like a snake's nose, and many slits in the nostrils... Duke Voldemort is back to life.

This was destined to be a memorable moment. After thirteen years, Voldemort lived in this world with a human body at a time.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body.

His hands were like huge, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his breast lightly. Arms and face; the red eyes with split pupils, like cat's eyes, glowed brighter in the dark. He held up his hand and stretched his fingers with an expression of rapt attention and pleasure.

He paid no attention to little Barty Crouch lying on the ground twitching and bleeding, nor did he pay attention to the big snake, which slid back into Harry's line of sight and coiled again. Harry, hiss.

Voldemort slipped his unnaturally fingered hands into a deep pocket and produced a short staff. He also gently caressed the short staff, then lifted it up and pointed it at Barty Crouch Jr.

At this moment, Barty Crouch Jr. got up from the ground excitedly, and threw himself on the tombstone where Harry was bound.

Voldemort looked at Harry with those crimson eyes. He let out a high-pitched, grim, nonsense laugh.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s robe was glistening with blood—it turned out that he had wrapped his broken arm in it.

Extend your arm, said Voldemort lazily. Oh, master...of course, my master master...

He held out the bleeding stump,

But Voldemort laughed again. Barty Crouch, the other arm.

Okay, okay...my...my master... Little Barty didn't dare to overstep in the slightest. He knelt at Voldemort's feet and stretched out his intact right hand.

Voldemort crouched down and pulled out Barty Crouch Jr.'s right hand.

He pushed the sleeves of Crouch's robes up to the elbows.

Harry saw something on the skin that seemed to be a bright red tattoo - it was a skull with a snake sticking out of its mouth - exactly like the one that had appeared in the Quidditch World Cup skies: the black logo.

Voldemort, ignoring Barty Crouch Jr.'s irrepressible screeching, examined it carefully. It's back, he said softly, and they must have noticed...now we'll see...now we'll know...

He pressed his long, white index finger to the mark on Crouch's arm. The scar on Harry's forehead was in severe pain like being burned by a fire, and Crouch couldn't help but let out a cry.

Voldemort's finger moved away from Crouch's mark, and Harry saw that it had turned black and shiny.

A look of cruel satisfaction crept across Voldemort's face. He stood up straight, turned his head, and looked around the dark tomb.

How many will still dare to come back when they feel I'm resurrected? he murmured, his shining red eyes gazing at the stars. How many people would be foolish enough to leave?

After speaking, Voldemort looked down at Barty Crouch Jr.

Good job, praised Voldemort, just like Bella, you are all my partners...

As Voldemort said, he took Barty Crouch Jr.'s left hand, This is the reward that should be given to you, Crouch, although your father...

Voldemort didn't say any more. With a wave of his wand, a silver-white palm appeared in Crouch's empty sleeve.

Welcome back, my master. Barty Crouch Jr. accepted it respectfully and said.

Oh, of course, my friend... Voldemort stood up, and Barty Crouch Jr. thanked him and stepped aside.

He started pacing up and down, after which Harry and Fan Lin kept scanning the tomb.

After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, his serpentine face twisted into a cruel smile.

Harry Potter, you are standing on the remains of my dead father, he said softly, a complete fool, . . . like your dear mother. But they all have their uses, yes No? Your mother died protecting you as a child... and I killed my father and saw him prove in death how useful he was... Voldemort laughed again.

He started pacing again, looking around as he walked, and the snake was still circling in the grass. .

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