Myriad Realms Store Owner of Harry Potter

"Master, I have handed Harry Potter into your hands." Barty said in a tone that was mixed with humility and fanaticism. He bent his waist forcefully like a shrimp, and looked at his face. If Voldemort stood there at this time, he would not hesitate to kiss Voldemort's feet.

"Very good. You'll be rewarded unexpectedly." The snake-faced baby hissed like a snake. "Take me there and let me see our guests."

Little Barty took over the baby version of Voldemort without hesitation, when a gust of wind blew off the short wizard's hood, revealing a wretched face. Peter really went after Voldemort after escaping Azkaban.

The package containing Voldemort was held up in front of Harry by Barty Jr, and there was another hissing sound from the package.

"How great is this prey, we have been preparing for more than half a year to obtain him. Fortunately, we grasped the timing of the raid well, and achieved the goal unexpectedly and smoothly." Voldemort sighed with emotion.

Suddenly Voldemort's voice turned grim: "Now, what are you waiting for here?"

After hearing this, Peter hurriedly walked away. After a while, he pushed out a heavy stone cauldron from behind a small mound. The cauldron seemed to be completely filled. When he moved it, he could hear liquid inside. splash sound. The potion in the pot is as clear and transparent as water after being boiled with a large amount of expensive medicinal materials. If this pot of potion is scrapped, even if Voldemort himself wants to make another pot, it will take at least three months. The effort to collect the materials before is not counted.

After putting the pot in place, Wormtail dabs the bottom of the cauldron with his wand. Suddenly there was a crackling flame from under the cauldron. This pot of rare and expensive potion was quickly boiled with the help of the flame, its surface beating wildly, and even sputtering sparks from time to time, as if it was burning. The surrounding steam also became thicker and thicker, and the figure of Wormtail, who was looking after the flames, became blurred. The sharp, cold voice came from the fog again.

"Right now, hurry up."

With a serious expression, Little Barty untied the swaddling clothes in his hand like a holy relic. It revealed the monster with dark red skin, without a trace of hair, deformed limbs and a flat snake face with red eyes.

But little Barty didn't show a trace of disgust, he gently held this monster as if he was holding the most precious treasure in the world. Then lift the guy up and put it smoothly into the boiling and sparking cauldron.

Voldemort's resurrection drama is about to begin.

To be precise, this is not a resurrection. Resurrection does not exist in the world of Harry Potter. Only those high-magic worlds can give birth to such completely defying skills.

What Voldemort is doing now is not so much a resurrection as it is a new body for his frail, broken soul. After all, Voldemort who made the Horcrux is not dead, and naturally it is impossible to resurrect.

The two Voldemort's lackeys present showed a look of surprise, because even Dumbledore, the most recognized white wizard, could not be resurrected, so he felt guilty for his life with the regret of his sister's death. Under this circumstance, the scene of Voldemort's resurrection from the dead naturally made the two Death Eaters adore him.

But Barty, who was in charge of the ceremony, was much more reliable than the original Peter - at least his hands didn't shake when he took the pot from a tree stump. He tapped the mouth of the jar with his wand, "Father's bone,

Donate unintentionally and regenerate your son! "

It seemed that Voldemort had dug up his father's grave, but that didn't cause him any psychological pressure. Digging graves is nothing compared to killing his father's family with his own hands.

As he chanted, a small wisp of dust flew out of the jar and fell gently into the cauldron. The diamond-like liquid surface cracked, hissed, sparks flew, and the liquid turned a vivid blue, giving the impression that the liquid was absolutely poisonous.

After using it, Barty put away the jar carefully. Of course it wasn't the Muggle father who respected Voldemort, but because the potion, the father's bone, was a limited amount of material. In case Voldemort needs to do it again next time, this thing will come in handy again. Anyway, there are not many ashes for one potion, and the amount left in the jar is estimated to be enough for Voldemort to use it ten or eight times.

After checking that the operation of this step was correct, Barty rolled up his sleeves without hesitation and stretched his hand over the crucible. Afterwards, he said in a firm tone, "The flesh of a servant, donated voluntarily, can regenerate your master! Then his other hand pulled out a dagger from his leg and slashed it down, and a lot of blood gushed out from the fracture. But Barty Jr. didn't show the slightest pain on his face, but watched his arm fall into the pot with a martyr's ecstasy.

The blue potion turned fiery red, and at the same time emitted a strong light. Peter Pettigrew's mind has been completely conquered by this scene. He knelt down in front of the pot, not knowing what he was muttering.

At this time, Barty first sealed the wound on his arm with a spell, and then he approached Harry with a dagger and a crystal bottle. Just when he walked up to Harry and was about to cut the knife, a clay pot suddenly flew out from the woods beside him and hit Peter, who was kneeling by the pot.

Soon a green flame enveloped him, causing him to scream and roll on the ground. At the same time, runes emerged from the cauldron that was stewing Voldemort, blocking the approaching flames, but the barrier formed by these runes quickly trembled under the licking of the green flames, which did not seem to support too much. long time.

"No!" Barty Crouch Jr roared, and just as he was about to turn back to rescue the cauldron, he heard an angry voice coming from the cauldron, "Now hurry up and finish the ritual, hurry up!"

Suddenly, a sharp blade made of shadows hit the rope tied to the stump, and the rope snapped. Harry fell sharply to the ground. The impact woke Harry up. He didn't care to tidy up the collar that had been turned over to cover his nose and mouth because he fell to the ground. After seeing everything in front of him, he subconsciously kicked the little Barty who was walking towards him with a dagger. knee.

Barty was unsteady after a kick, but at the master's command, he swooped forward and hugged Harry. Then his mouth nibbled on Harry's face directly through the clothes.

Just as he was chewing on it, Barty felt as if he had broken Harry's teeth. A salty-sweet taste flowed into his mouth.

"Ah!" Just when Barty was going to take advantage of the victory to get Harry's blood. Another sharp blade composed of shadows flew over. Maybe the attacker was worried about hitting Harry, who was hugging him, and the sharp blade just flew diagonally through his leaking calf, and took it off his left knee below the knee.

Little Barty showed a sad and crazy look, then yanked down the clothes that blocked Harry's face and bit it directly. There was a deep bite on Harry's face.

"The blood of the enemy...the blood of the enemy...forced to give...can make your enemy...revive." Little Crouch, whose mouth was full of blood, raised his head and spit out a mouthful of blood-red saliva after chanting this spell. Came out and flew directly into the crucible under the blessing of magic.

At this time, another sharp blade composed of shadows flew over, and Harry was horrified to see little Barty's head rolling down. After a few seconds, he heard the voice of a strange little girl behind him. "You, hurry up and run away with me."

With the spittle of Harry's blood flowing into the pot, the originally bright and dark flames immediately lit up, the crucible was about to boil, and the diamond-like sparks splashed out, bright and dazzling, making everything around him become black velvet color.

Although this practice makes the ceremony imperfect, it can even be said to be shameful. But the blood of the last enemy is also in the pot. Even though the forest shot a few more sharp blades made of black shadows, they were all stopped by the white mist emerging from the pot.

Finally, the black figure of a man slowly rose from the cauldron, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

Voldemort is resurrected.

:. :