"He's calling me!"

Snape lifted his sleeves, and the black snake wrapped around the corpse seemed to come alive and drilled into the skeleton's eye sockets.

"What do you mean?" Ron didn't understand yet, but Hermione covered her mouth and widened her eyes.

"That's the Dark Mark, something only Death Eaters have!"

She looked at Snape in disbelief. Although no one liked him, even Harry had never thought that Snape was actually a Death Eater. The person he was loyal to from beginning to end was the mysterious man! "Correct you, only Death Eaters trusted by the Dark Lord are eligible to obtain it!" Sirius said sarcastically. This is the truth. Voldemort will not leave the Dark Mark on everyone, such as some werewolves and some wizards who are not presentable. In his eyes, they are not even servants, but just consumable materials.

But no one is worrying about this now.

Snape didn't care about his ridicule. He just looked at Cyrus, waiting for Cyrus's decision. Should he return to the Dark Lord or stay? Should he show his cards or continue to hide? Cyrus quickly made arrangements for Snape. He didn't say anything, just looked into Snape's eyes.

"You come with us and attack me. Of course, I don't think he will let you do it." These words rang directly in Snape's mind without being heard by anyone else.

What Snape needs now is to show his loyalty to Voldemort. Since Dumbledore is not dead yet, Voldemort needs an insider to stay by Dumbledore's side.

There weren't many people who could do this well, and it was not yet time for Snape to be exposed.

At least Cyrus didn't plan to break Dumbledore's arrangement for the time being.

"The question is how are we going to find them!" Sirius stomped his feet hard. At this moment, a tall figure hurriedly and panickedly broke open the door of the astronomy tower.

It was Hagrid! "The Thestrals found Harry's blood in the Forbidden Forest!" He rushed in, almost rolling in, and shouted before he could even stand still.

At the same time, several black shadows passed through the sky. They looked like horse skeletons, but had dragon heads and huge bat wings, like the mounts of the god of death!

"What?" Hermione looked out in confusion, but she saw nothing. Instead, Ginny and Ron were frightened by the terrifying appearance of the Thestrals.

Only those who have seen death can see the shadow of this special Pegasus.

No one answered Hermione. Sirius took the lead and rode on the back of the Thestrals, like a prince going to war: "The Thestrals will follow the smell of blood and lead us to Harry!"

So, under the astonished gaze of Hermione and the other two, they rode on the non-existent Thestrals. The Pegasus spread its huge wing membranes, and the wind it created made the planetary models in the astronomy tower turn.

"Wait, we want to go too!"

Ginny clenched her wand and took a step forward. She kept staring at Cyrus and didn't give in at all! "I can fight the Death Eaters now! You taught me how to fight, didn't you?"

After a long time, Cyrus noticed that Ginny had indeed grown taller, her facial features had gradually developed, and her white skin was as white as snow. But in his opinion, she was still just a second-year student.

"So can we!" Neither Hermione nor Ron intended to back down.

"You have to stay in school!" said McGonagall sternly.

Even Sirius did not support them taking risks: "We are facing the You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, they are all ruthless and murderous, kid, this is not a joke!"

But Hermione, Ginny and even Ron didn't care what they said, but looked straight at Cyrus until Cyrus shook his head.

"no."

If Voldemort is resurrected, even he now cannot be sure of defeating him, so he cannot take the risk with several children.

"It's late. Go back to your dormitories now. You will see Harry tomorrow morning."

He almost commanded.

All three children were a little unconvinced, especially Ginny. She had previously killed Peter Pettigrew. Maybe Cyrus underestimated her a little too much?

However, when she looked into Cyrus' eyes, she no longer had any thoughts of resistance, as if Cyrus' words were an order that could not be refused, and an unchangeable truth! So she had no choice but to lower her head and pout as she walked toward the door of the astronomy tower. Before leaving, she looked back, her face full of grievance: "Only Harry?"

"And me."

"Snap!" The door closed. —— "Snap!"

The air was torn apart, and little Barty came out of the small black hole with the injured Harry and threw Harry on the mud.

Harry was tied up all over and couldn't move. He could only try his best to look up.

He saw a huge crucible standing there. The pale and thin wizard who had appeared in his dream had a terrified face. He was holding a small package in his arms and tapping the bottom of the crucible with his wand.

A huge snake with three heads swam into the darkness.

"You're back, little Barty."

The package in Karkaroff's arms moved, making a harsh sound, like sharp claws scratching glass, which made Harry feel very uncomfortable.

Then he saw the thing in the package stick its head out and be completely exposed before his eyes - it was a slimy, ugly, eyeless thing - it looked like a baby, but without hair, and covered with tiny snake-like scales all over its body, and its skin was dark and red, like injured red flesh - it had a snake's face.

Harry knew immediately that this was Voldemort.

Harry had seen many versions of Voldemort, but none of them looked more pitiful than the one he looked now, as if he could be strangled to death at any moment.

But he knew that Voldemort was more dangerous than before. His weakness was just an appearance. Perhaps in the next moment, he would be completely resurrected and spread terror to the British wizarding world like a venomous snake spraying venom! "It went well, my master!" Little Barty said happily.

"You never let me down." Voldemort said excitedly and coldly. His eyes were like two cracks, and when they were torn apart, the pupils were erected. Being stared at by him, Harry felt a sharp pain in his forehead, and his blood coagulated! "It seems that my appearance scared the 'boy who lived'." Voldemort paused and said, his tone was very contemptuous, as if Harry Potter was just a joke in his eyes, "Well, Harry, let's talk about the past later."

The liquid in the crucible seemed to heat up very quickly, and the surface not only began to boil, but also to emit sparks as if it were covered with diamonds.

"It's ready, master." Karkaroff sounded hoarse and weak from his choked throat, as if he had just cried.

His face was full of fear, and even his hands were shaking. Voldemort was not as polite to him as he was to Barty.

"Now, put me in!"

Karkaroff carried Voldemort to the crucible, and the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion illuminated the evil flat face. Karkaroff put him into the crucible, and the potion instantly submerged Voldemort.

For a moment, Harry almost prayed that Voldemort would drown in the potion. But this was too absurd. How could Voldemort seek his own death? How could he allow his servants to kill him? Karkaroff raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky: "The bones of a father, donated unintentionally, can regenerate your son!"

Harry was startled to see a tiny wisp of dust rise into the air from beside him at Karkaroff's beckoning and land gently in the cauldron.

Father's bones?

Is this Voldemort's father?

Is this how he treated his father's body? Before Harry could think about it, the diamond-like liquid surface in the crucible broke, hissing, sparks flew, and the liquid turned bright blue. Little Barty grabbed his collar with a grim smile and brought him to the edge of the crucible! Little Barty urged Karkaroff: "Hurry up, Karkaroff! There is still the pendant!"

Karkaroff quickly lifted up his sleeve, revealing a hand wrapped in the pendant.

He looked at Little Barty with a timid look, and pulled out a long, thin, silver-shining dagger from his cloak. His voice suddenly became fierce and decisive: "The flesh of a servant - voluntarily donated, can bring - your master - back to life."

His words came out in broken pieces, as the pain made it almost impossible for him to speak.

The silver dagger cut off his palm like cutting off a weed.

Harry's eyes widened, but he was no longer interested in Karkaroff's miserable condition, because Barty Jr. took the dagger and pressed Harry's head to the edge of the crucible. The boiling pot burned Harry's skin red, emitting fishy smoke, and the boiling potion almost splashed into his eyes!

"The blood of your enemies, when forced to give, can resurrect your enemies!"

Harry couldn't stop it, he was tied too tightly... He struggled desperately, but felt the tip of the dagger pierce his shoulder blade, and blood flowed down the torn sleeve of his robe and into the crucible.

The liquid in the crucible instantly turned a blinding white, and diamond-like sparks flew out in all directions, so bright and dazzling that everything around it turned into the color of black velvet.

"You have completed your great mission, Harry!" Little Barty screamed excitedly, even happier than the moment he was free! He threw away the dagger in his hand, pulled Harry over, and tightly framed Harry's head with his hands, forcing Harry to witness it all! "Look! The great Dark Lord is reborn!"

"He won't succeed!" Harry gritted his teeth.

But Harry's prayers were in vain.

The spark on the cauldron went out. A white vapor rose from the cauldron, obscuring everything in front of Harry.

Then, through the white mist in front of him, he saw with horror the black figure of a man slowly rising from the crucible, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

The hazy white mist was instantly dyed black by the power of magic, and then turned into a material like gauze, and finally became a black robe draped over the skeleton.

The wandering three-headed snake had returned to Voldemort's feet at some point, crawling there.

"You're wrong, Harry."

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron and stared at Harry... Harry saw the face that had often appeared in his nightmares for the past three years, paler than a skull, with two big red eyes, a nose as flat as a snake's nose, and two thin slits for the nostrils...

Voldemort has resurrected.

He did not greet Harry immediately, but checked his body. Miraculously, he pulled out a wand from the robe that had conjured up, and it was the same wand he had used before.

"Master!" Little Barty threw Harry to the ground and fell at Voldemort's feet, but he was not kneeling, but more like relying on him. "How do you feel?"

Voldemort closed his scarlet snake eyes, as if he was experiencing the feeling of a body that truly belonged to him: "It's better than ever before—"

After fusing with the soul in the pendant, Voldemort did feel that his magical power seemed to have increased a little. It was very small, but real!

It's a wonderful feeling.

Since school days, Voldemort no longer knew what it felt like to have a complete soul. He changed himself beyond recognition, but his power was increasing, because he was far from reaching his prime at that time.

As for now, he has only recovered a tiny bit of strength.

"The only regret is that I used the flesh of such a traitor to resurrect." He glanced at Karkaroff with contempt, as if he was looking at some dirty garbage.

"You should use my meat--" Little Barty said immediately.

"Of course not, Barty, I hope you should remain intact!" Voldemort said arrogantly, but with a sense of expectation.

He was barefoot, stepping on the black soil, and when he passed by Karkarov, Karkarov gave him a pleading look.

"hand!"

A look of joy appeared on Karkaroff's pale face. He stretched out his still bleeding severed hand, like a man in distress praying to God for salvation.

But Voldemort is not a benevolent being.

His expression was very cold, as if he was looking at a dead body: "Another one!"

Karkaroff froze instantly.

Voldemort didn't say another word. He just waved his hand, as if he had grasped an non-existent rope, and pulled Karkaroff's other hand up.

Then he pushed Karkaroff's sleeves up to his elbows.

Harry saw something on that skin, something like a bright red tattoo - a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

The Dark Mark!

Voldemort looked at the pattern with nostalgia, as if recalling the old days. He missed his past power and authority, the painful wails of the Muggles, and the pleasure of the Death Eaters crawling humbly at his feet! "They will all know that you are back!" Barty Jr. said excitedly, "Lestrange, Lucius, Flint... they are all waiting for your call, sir!"

Voldemort chuckled and pressed his long, pale index finger to Karkaroff's arm.

The scar on Harry's forehead began to hurt again, and Karkaroff uttered another wail.

A look of cruel triumph came over Voldemort's face. He straightened up and, with his head thrown back, glanced around the darkness of his lair.

"Waiting for my call?"

“But after feeling it, how many people have the courage to come back?” he murmured, his glowing red eyes fixed on the stars in the sky, “and how many people will be stupid enough not to come?”

(End of this chapter)