Chapter 488: Felix's Death and Return - (1)

Chapter 488: Felix's Death and Return - (1)

Chapter 488: Felix's Death and Return (Ten Thousand Words)

Howling winds and swirling colors enveloped Harry, Ron, and Hermione, dragging them forward until Harry's feet touched solid ground once more. They found themselves in a completely unfamiliar place.

It was a graveyard.

Seated on the ground, the three felt deeply shocked.

"Where are we?" Ron asked. "I don't see anything familiar. Are we in a graveyard?" Weeds grew around, black stone slabs stood erect all around. Harry shook his head, scanning around. Behind a tall sequoia, he spotted the outline of a building.

To the left was a hill. Harry could make out a quaint old house on the slope.

"Looks like something went wrong with the trophy's transportation," Harry said, searching around. The trophy lay several yards away from them.

"Would the Ministry make such a basic error?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Oh, Harry, look over there!" Hermione pointed anxiously in a direction.

"Wind?" Ron guessed, the night wind had started blowing.

"It's people, pick up your wands," Harry said decisively. They tensely squinted into the deep darkness as three figures made their way toward them between the graves. Were they nearby Muggles? Harry pondered, but quickly dismissed the idea; they were all wearing wizarding cloaks.

"Halt! Who are you?" Harry shouted at the approaching figures.

Laughter fragmented on the wind; this was not a friendly sign. Harry raised his wand, but they halted at a distance of a dozen feet, reaching up to remove their hoods. Harry, Ron, and Hermione relaxed a bit. Harry noticed the person in the middle had unnaturally pale skin, almost like someone suffering from a dreadful disease.

The person on the far left revealed his face. "Barty Crouch Jr.!" Hermione shrieked. Harry was startled, forgetting about the person in the middle, shifting his gaze leftwards. Memories from a Christmas night half a year ago flooded his mind. "It's really you!"

"Potter," said the younger Crouch, grinning widely, "you should call me 'Professor.' After all, I taught you so much."

Ron beside him tugged on his sleeve. "H-Harry—"

He didn't need to say it. Harry also noticed a pair of eyes brimming with malice, emanating from the person in the middle. As he removed the cloak, his nose flattened like a snake, with nostrils as narrow slits... Harry felt a sense of familiarity in this appearance; the person used unnaturally pale, elongated hands to touch his forehead, revealing crimson eyes.

Not a trace of warmth in those eyes.

"Voldemort?" he shouted aloud.

"How dare you speak the master's name!" Barty Crouch Jr. angrily drew his wand, but a hand stopped him. A chilling, sharp voice followed, "They are my guests, brought back by me. Barty, I permit their rudeness this time," said Voldemort.

"Master, shall I handle those two nuisances?" Yaxley humbly asked, bowing his head. "I emerged from the maze castle to offer my help."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't recovered from the immense shock. The night air felt like piercing ice, a chilling sensation spread from their lungs to their whole bodies.

However, Voldemort showed no reaction to Yaxley's words. His eyes, red and unable to discern pupils from whites, lingered on Harry, exuding greed, hatred, and a hint... of fear?

Standing on the far left, Barty Crouch Jr. returned to his gentlemanly facade, lazily playing with his wand, casting a disdainful glance at Yaxley—what did he know, wanting to replace his position? Crouch licked his lips, displaying a sickly smile.

"So, you're back?" Harry stepped forward, shielding Ron and Hermione behind him, bravely locking eyes with Voldemort. He needed to attract the attention, create an opportunity for Hermione and Ron to escape, inform the professors, inform Headmaster Dumbledore.

But his heart sank, plunging as though into an abyss. A voice told him, the chances were too slim. A year ago, Crouch was stronger than all three of them combined, not to mention Voldemort, who was now resurrected.

Harry stared into Voldemort's eyes, trying to display his fearlessness. Yet, his scar unexpectedly flared up violently, more intense than ever before. His head felt like it was about to explode. One hand clutched his scar, while the other gripped his wand tightly. The excruciating pain made him convulse on the ground, a nauseating turmoil surged through his stomach, even suspecting he might die any moment.

He heard Ron and Hermione shouting something, followed by sharp whistling sounds and bodies hitting the ground heavily.

Then, a sudden coolness spread through his brain, swiftly alleviating his agony. It was Occlumency.

"Tsk, tsk... your friends are quite concerned about you," Voldemort said, devoid of any emotion.

Harry opened his eyes, seeing stars, his vision blurred, remnants of intense pain lingering. It took several seconds to focus on Voldemort's face so close—almost a corpse's color, bone-white. He had no hair on his head, vivid red eyes appearing sinister in the darkness, pupils regressed to two slits, like snake's eyes.

What did he just say? My friends? Harry had a dreadful suspicion, no... absolutely not... he struggled to get up, each movement piercingly painful, yet he didn't release the wand in his hand.

If Ron and Hermione... he dared not entertain the possibility, his stomach churned again, fingers cut by the stones from gripping the wand tightly. Harry gritted his teeth, the pain providing some relief. Struggling to rise, he glared at Voldemort with eyes full of hatred.

A cold, sharp, mocking laugh responded to him.

He staggered to his feet, shook his head vigorously. Voldemort silently stepped back two paces, still glaring at him with those loathsome eyes.

Then, Harry heard a faint moan. It was Ron! Harry felt a surge of joy; he hadn't died, thank goodness! But what about Hermione? He couldn't hear any movement from her position on his left; it was deathly silent. Harry didn't dare turn to confirm.

"You've been too heavy-handed, Yaxley, that girl could've died," Voldemort spoke softly, "Barty did well."

"Ma-Master...?" Yaxley lifted his head, puzzled, while Barty Crouch Jr. sneered silently beside him.

"I have use for all three of them," Voldemort spoke softly, his eyes still on Harry, "but those two... not only are they the best friends of the 'great savior' Harry Potter, but also—according to Barty—they're both close to Felix Harp?"

"I believe letting your best two friends witness your demise would be fitting," he said cruelly, a savage smile on his face. "After that, shall it be the pure-blood killing the Mudblood, or the Mudblood killing the pure-blood? Or perhaps, both at the hands of this little boy... I haven't decided yet, but I'm sure it'll make quite the spectacle."

"You're... dreaming," Ron grimaced.

Voldemort turned to him, sneering. "Weasley? A disgusting family... Crucio!"

Ron screamed in agony.

"No—"

"Don't—"

Harry and the just-awakened Hermione yelled, but Voldemort's smile grew wider. "I relish this feeling, the power over life and death..." He continued to torment Ron with his wand, yet this time, the torture was shorter. Voldemort stopped of his own accord, scanning around.

The air suddenly filled with rustling cloaks. Figures emerged from every shadowy corner—wizards in hoods, faces concealed. Carefully they approached, Voldemort stepping forward, silently waiting.

A Death Eater knelt, crawled to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his robes.

More Death Eaters followed suit, including Crouch and Yaxley. Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort calmly spoke, delivering a speech on his return. Harry wasn't paying much attention, instead signaling Hermione subtly. She hadn't noticed; injured—

"I sense guilt... no one sought me out proactively... didn't you all know I had taken measures to prevent my death?" Voldemort's voice echoed. "Perhaps you thought a stronger power overcame Voldemort, overcame your master... like hiding behind that old man at Hogwarts? Or the seemingly lucky boy in front of you?"

The kneeling Death Eaters trembled when they looked at Harry, gasping collectively.

"Lucius, surprised? I heard your son and Harry Potter were in the same year?"

"M-Master," Lucius Malfoy's voice emerged from the sea of Death Eaters, "the Malfoy family has always been loyal to you. Draco and Potter are enemies at school! Like me, he hates Muggles, hates Potter, hates Dumbledore."

Lucius raised his head. "Master, your return is a relief—"

"Lucius," Voldemort lazily said, "my cunning friend, hypocrisy runs in your veins. Like everyone else, you never tried to seek me out... But your performance at the Quidditch World Cup was intriguing. I believe... you still enjoy leading in the torture of Muggles? Despite your earlier disappointments... I hope you'll serve me more faithfully."

"Of course, Master, of course... Your generosity, thank you—"

Voldemort proceeded to name others, even those absent. The kneeling Death Eaters awaited their fate. Harry continued to communicate subtly with Hermione. He succeeded

, seeing a faint nod from her.

"Weasley... isn't it curious?" Voldemort hissed, slowly approaching Ron, whose breaths were ragged. "Being the youngest of your siblings... most expendable, perhaps?"

"Leave him!" Harry's voice trembled. "You've done enough!"

Voldemort chuckled, but before he could speak further, a distant rumble echoed. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The Death Eaters exchanged uneasy glances.

Voldemort raised his wand, commanding his followers to stay put. But the tremors intensified. The ground cracked, a fissure forming, rapidly expanding. A blinding light emerged from the crack, engulfing Voldemort and his followers.

Chaos erupted. The Death Eaters struggled, attempting to escape the escalating pandemonium.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, frantic.

Harry strained against the ropes, desperation in his eyes. The ropes loosened, giving him enough space to move his hand. He reached for the wand, uttering, "Diffindo!"

The ropes snapped. He turned to Ron, freeing him next. The fissure widened, swallowing the Death Eaters one by one.

Hermione joined Harry and Ron, her wand already in hand.

"Confringo!"

The tombstone exploded, debris flying in all directions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ducked, shielding themselves. The ground continued to quake.

Then, as swiftly as it started, the light and chaos vanished, leaving the graveyard eerily silent.

Harry looked around, finding himself, Ron, and Hermione alone, the Death Eaters vanished. But Voldemort? He was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did they go?" Ron panted.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, scanning the horizon. "But we need to find out."

>

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