Chapter 483

In fact, Harry has been at home since he last saw van leen and Hermione.

However, it was not a pleasant experience for him. The strange and damned dream haunted him like a nightmare, which made his mental state very bad.

……

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as if he were running. A very vivid dream awakened him, and he covered his face with his hand. The old, thunderbolt like scar on his forehead burned under his fingers as if someone had pressed red hot wire on his skin.

He sat up, pressing the scar in one hand and grabbing his glasses in the dark with the other, which were on the table by the bed. He put on his glasses, and the bedroom could see more clearly, for the orange light, which was as faint as fog, shone through the curtains.

It was the smallest bedroom of the Dursleys. It was Dali's storage room, but now it belongs to him.

After going to Hogwarts, the Dursleys were more straightforward about his dislike, but there was no denying that his life changed a lot because of it.

They fear magic, unknown power.

Harry touched the scar with his fingers, and it was still painful. He turned on the light next to him, climbed up from the bed, went to the other end of the room, opened the closet, and looked into the mirror inside the cupboard door: a thin 14-year-old boy looked at him, his black hair was in disorder, and his big green eyes looked puzzled. He drew closer to the mirror to examine the thunderbolt wound. It looks normal, but it still has a hot feeling.

Harry tried hard to remember what happened in his dream before he woke up. It seemed so real There were two people, but he didn't know either of them, and he didn't understand why one of them appeared in his mind.

He tried his best to concentrate on what he wanted to remember

The dim picture of the dark room came to him. It was a very old house, like a noble manor, but it looked like it had not been repaired for a long time.

The wooden floor of the house is very shabby, which reminds him of the scream hut, but it's not that messy.

After a while, as the picture goes on, a snake climbs down the stairs, mixing black and green patterns. The snake is very big, just like the Brazilian Python he released from the zoo.

It seems very aggressive.

The snake crawled slowly around the door. The light in the room was not bright, even cold.

Through the door, Harry saw a man kneeling in front of a sofa seat.

The man was dressed in black leather, and his face was blue and bearded. He looked like he had not been cleaned up for a long time. At least his face was not so good-looking.

"My master, your most faithful servant..."

Master? servant?

This word is still used only among the nobility, of course, so is the house elf, and Fanlin has given up his correction of Dobby.

That nervous little elf.

There was also a man in a cape. His face was very pale, as if he could not see the sun all day long, but his eyes were dark red and looked cloudy.

Harry had never seen such pupils.

The man stood aside respectfully, but it was very dangerous to give van Lin the feeling.

But what made Harry feel worse was that he heard Voldemort's voice.

It was as if he had swallowed a large piece of ice, and Harry swore that he had never felt so cold, even if he had been hit by Van Lin's spell.

"You have done well, my servant." Voldemort's voice is very hoarse, but it is very degree.

"With Trevor's help, I have a short body, but as you can see, I'm still very weak."

Trevor? Is that the name of the man who didn't speak?

But more let Harry care, Voldemort actually has his own body, this is not good news, Voldemort resurrected?

Harry wanted to continue listening, but the couch on which the snake climbed.

The snake whispered, and before Harry could think about it, Voldemort said.

"Nagini told me that the Muggle keeper of this house was standing outside the door eavesdropping."

Then, Trevor stood in front of the door. He moved quickly.

"Let me welcome our guest myself, Trevor." Said Voldemort, his chair turning towards the door.

Harry closed his eyes. He tried to think about Voldemort's appearance, but it was impossible. All Harry could remember was that when Voldemort's chair turned, he felt the fear and convulsion that awakened his brain Maybe the pain of the scar woke him up?

Who is the old man? Because there must be an old man. Harry saw him fall to the ground. All of this became blurred. Harry covered his face with his hands, used his house as a composition, and tried to grasp the picture of the dark room, but it was like using a synthetic cup to spoon water. When he tried to remember the details, they all slipped away Voldemort and his two followers were talking about the man they had killed, but the name of the man could not be remembered And they're planning to kill someone again HeHarry opened his hands, opened his eyes, and looked around the room as if he wanted to see something unusual. Yes, there are really a lot of unusual things in his room.

A large box at the foot of the bed opened, revealing a large steamer, broom, Hei Shizi, different kinds of spelling textbooks. Rolls of parchment were scattered on his desk, not in the big, empty cage where his snow-white owl was perched. There was a book on the floor beside the bed, which he had read before he went to sleep last night. The pictures in the book are moving. People in bright orange robes galloped on brooms, seeing and not seeing, throwing a red ball at each other.

Harry went to the book, picked it up, and saw a wizard grading a good ball by throwing it over a fifty foot hoop. He slammed the book shut. In Harry's opinion, even the best moves in the Quidditch World Cup don't appeal to him at the moment.

He put "fly with the cannon" on the table by the bed, went to the window, opened the curtains, and looked down the street.

It was a bad night, at least Harry had a hard time.

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