The new guest looked like a young man, but his complexion was a little unwell and very pale.

The old man who was reading the newspaper also looked up, squinted his eyes and whispered, "Old friend is back." But Aberforth couldn't remember when such a face had appeared in his bar.

In fact, most wizards who come here will not reveal their true faces.

"Just call me Walls." The pale-faced young wizard nodded to Aberforth and the old wizard, then found a seat and sat down at random.

"A glass of brandy, preferably with some dragon's blood."

"No," Aberforth whispered.

"No dragon blood?"

"No dragon's blood, and no brandy. Just butterbeer and firewhiskey." He looked like he didn't care whether he wanted to drink or not.

"Then let's have some firewhiskey. It's raining outside and I need to warm myself up." Walls stretched his body and leaned back in the chair, then took out the past two days' Daily Prophet from his pocket. He pretended to read it, but his eyes were always on Aberforth and the old wizard.

It seemed that he wanted to talk to them more.

But the old wizard just glanced at him when he came in, and immediately concentrated on reading his own things.

Walls had no idea what to say. He could only wait for Aberforth to come over with a glass of wine. Then he put down the newspaper and said to the familiar dirty bartender: "Do they have any clues? I mean Sirius Black and Tom Riddle."

"No." Aberforth was not in the mood for conversation and simply replied.

Walls was unwilling to let him go, so he flicked the newspaper, and the paper made a crisp sound that was particularly harsh in the quiet bar.

"I heard he was here? Tom Riddle."

"Maybe, the Ministry of Magic said he might have been in Hogsmeade, but I haven't seen him," said Aberforth.

"The Ministry of Magic is really incompetent," the old wizard, who had also heard the conversation, joined in. "Goblins and Dark wizards are in league, apparently planning another rebellion. And yet they're negotiating with the goblins. As if those greedy, cunning creatures would admit that dead goblins were their own hands.

"We suppressed a rebellion hundreds of years ago, but ended up giving up Gringotts. I think they might as well give up the Ministry of Magic as well!" the old wizard sneered.

Walls did not continue to discuss this topic.

It is obvious that whoever has the bigger fist holds the power.

He only cared about two things, the whereabouts of Tom Riddle and ancient magic.

His eyes turned to the newspaper again. The Daily Prophet described the last incident clearly. Tom Riddle acted much more high-profile than Sirius Black after escaping from prison.

But everything a person does must have a reason. He can't attack the Ministry of Magic for no reason unless he wants to get something. Combined with the Scottish Highlands incident, his purpose is naturally ancient magic.

Walls was not surprised that Tom Riddle wanted to learn the secrets of ancient magic.

after all……

'That's the power that nearly killed me.'

He lowered his head, his facial features twisted, and another face flashed by, with dim yellow pupils erected, like a cold-blooded animal. He was none other than Voldemort.

After leaving Albania for the second time, he returned all the way to England just to find another "himself".

The function of the Horcrux is to ensure that he himself will not die, but now, a fragment of the soul seems to have taken the initiative.

Faced with something beyond his control, Voldemort could not tolerate it, so he ventured out of Albania again, intending to see if the resurrected soul was really himself.

If so, and the other party is willing to surrender, then they may be able to join forces to fight against Dumbledore. They can rule Britain, conquer Europe and even the whole world! All Muggles and wizards must surrender at their feet.

The world is big, and Voldemort doesn't mind dividing it into small pieces for another to rule.

But if the resurrected soul is unwilling to obey itself——

Then he would never allow anything to exist beyond his control.

In fact, Voldemort had already made some guesses. If the soul that revived from the diary was really willing to submit to him, then the other party would have gone to Albania and brought him back to this world.

There was a scarlet flash of murderous intent in his eyes.

Voldemort sat here for a while, but not too long. He disguised (not really a disguise) himself as a wizard who was very interested in ancient magic. Before leaving, he paid some money to ask Aberforth to help him keep an eye out for news about Tom Riddle or ancient magic.

Then left.

The body he possessed was crumbling and needed to be replenished with vitality. That was why he asked Aberforth for dragon blood as soon as he came in. And unlike Quirrell's time, when Quirrell was the one doing most of the action while he was sleeping, Voldemort planned to do it himself this time.

Now, he had to go to Knockturn Alley to get something to replenish his vitality. It would be best if he had unicorn blood, but that was too rare. Dragon blood could also replenish his vitality.

Voldemort opened the door and it was still raining outside.

It was dark, he looked up, and then disappeared in a flash.

A moment later, an eagle with golden wings flew over from the sky.

Cyrus walked through the rain, not knowing that he had almost brushed shoulders with Voldemort.

He cast a spell on himself to make himself invulnerable to water and fire. Taking advantage of the gloomy weather and the sound of rain, he folded his wings and landed under the eaves of the Hog's Head Pub, his golden pupils like flickering lights in the rainy night.

He looked at the bloody and horrible pig's head. Years of sun and rain had not made it rot or shriveled. It seemed like a spell had been cast on it, or perhaps it was the head of a pig with magical powers.

The Hog's Head Inn has a long history, at least several hundred years old, but the head seemed to have been hung up not long ago.

Cyrus felt a little nauseous, but he still looked at every corner of it carefully.

Finally, he found a strange object in the pig's mouth. He used his claws to hook it out, and a golden key fell out. The tail of the key was half spiral, like smoke and flame.

It is the mark of ancient magic.

Thinking about it now, Cyrus still felt a little surprised. Not long ago, he lived in the Hog's Head Inn every day, and walked under this scary pig's head every morning and evening. He never thought that the key he had been looking for for so long was actually here.

Now, it's time to go to Gringotts.

Thanks to the mysterious bandage man for his 500-point reward, and the Buddhist Li Hongchen, the strongest hero of the musicians, Astolfo, for his 100-point reward. Thank you, boss!

(End of this chapter)