The howling wind and whirling colors surrounded Harry, Ron and Hermione, dragging them forward, and when Harry's feet touched the solid ground again, they had arrived at a completely strange place.

This is a cemetery.

The three of them sat on the ground, shocked.

"Where is this?" Ron asked. "I can't see a familiar place. That's a cemetery?" The surroundings were covered with weeds, and black stone tablets stood around them. Harry shook his head and looked around. He saw a tall yew tree with the outline of a building behind the tree.

On the left is a hill. Harry could recognize that there was an exquisite old house on the hillside.

"It seems that something was wrong with the trophy teleportation," Harry said, searching around, the trophy was more than ten feet away from them.

"Will people from the Ministry of Magic make such low-level mistakes?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Oh, Harry, look over there-" Hermione said nervously in a direction.

"The sound of the wind?" Ron guessed that the wind had already started at night.

"It's man, pick up the wand." Harry said, and they narrowed their eyes nervously toward the deep darkness, and the three figures walked towards them step by step between the graves. Is it the nearby muggles? Harry thought, but he quickly denied the speculation, they were all wearing wizard cloaks.

"Stop, who are you?" Harry shouted at the people.

The wind blew over and it was no sign of friendship. Harry raised his wand, but they stopped a dozen feet away and reached for the hood on his head. Harry, Ron and Hermione relaxed a little, and Harry felt that the man in the middle had abnormally white skin, as if he had some kind of terrible disease.

The person on the far left revealed his face, "Barty Crouch, little!" Hermione screamed. Harry was surprised, not caring about paying attention to the person in the middle, and his eyes moved to the left. The memories of Christmas night six months ago surged out, "It's really you!"

"Potter," Crouch, little, grinned, "you should call me a professor, after all, I have taught you so much knowledge."

Ron next to him pulled his sleeve. "Ha, Harry—"

Needless to say, Harry also noticed a pair of malicious eyes, from the man in the middle. He had just untied his cloak, his nose was as flat as a snake, and his nostrils were two thin slits... Harry felt that this makeup looked familiar, and the man stroked his forehead with his pale and slender hands, and a pair of scarlet eyes were exposed between his fingers.

There is no temperature seen from these eyes.

"Voldemort?" he shouted.

"How dare you call your master's name!" Little Crouch angrily pulled out his wand and stopped him with one hand. A sharp voice as sharp as ice appeared immediately, "They are the guests I finally invited back, Barty, I allow them to be rude this time." Voldemort said.

"Master, why not leave the two people who are in trouble?" Yaxley asked humbly, "I came out of the Maze Castle to contribute my strength."

Harry, Ron and Hermione had not yet come back from the great shock. The air at night was like cold ice, and a heart-wrenching coldness spread from the lungs to the whole body.

However, Voldemort did not react at all to Axley's words. His eyes were red, making people unable to distinguish between pupils and whites for a while, but Harry could clearly feel that his eyes were constantly judging him as if they were solid. It was greed, hatred, and a hint of fear?

Baddy Crouch, who was standing on the far left, turned into a good-looking gentleman again, lazily playing with his wand, and giving a contemptuous glance at Yaxley - he knew nothing, and was eager to take his place? Crouch licked his lips and showed a sickly smile.

"So, are you resurrected?"

Harry took a step forward, blocked Ron and Hermione in front of him, and bravely looked at Voldemort. He had to try his best to attract the attention of the opposite side... and actively create opportunities... so that Hermione and Ron had a chance to escape, tell the professor and tell President Dumbledore.

But his heart kept falling down, as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss. A voice told him that the chance was too slim. Little Crouch was stronger than the three of them a year ago, not to mention the resurrected Voldemort.

Harry stared at Voldemort's eyes and tried his best to show his fearlessness. But his scars were painful without warning. It had never been so strong in his life. His head seemed to explode. Harry covered the scar with one hand and still grabbed the wand with the other hand. The severe pain made him fall to the ground and twitch constantly, his stomach was tumbling. He kept retching, and even suspected that he would die in the next second.

He heard Ron and Hermione shouting, then several sharp sounds of breaking through the air, and the sound of his body slamming heavily on the ground.

At this time, a coolness suddenly came from the brain, which quickly relieved his pain. It was brain closure surgery.

"Tsk, tsk...your friend really cares about you." said a voice without any emotion.

Harry opened his eyes, his eyes were filled with stars, his vision was blurred, and the effects of the severe pain remained. It took several seconds to see the face of Voldemort, who was close to him - it should be the color of the corpse and the color of the bones. There was no hair on his head, and his bright red eyes looked gloomy in the darkness, and his pupils degenerated into two gaps, like snake eyes.

What did he just say? My friend? Harry thought of a terrible guess, no...don't... He struggled to get up, and every move hurts like a piercing pain, but even so, he did not put down the wand in his hand.

If Ron and Hermione really... he couldn't imagine this possibility, his stomach began to churn again, and his fingers were cut by the stone because of his wand. Harry gritted his teeth, and the pain made him feel better. He struggled to get up while staring at Voldemort with hatred eyes.

Responding to him was a cold and sharp smile.

He staggered and stood up, shook his head hard, Voldemort quietly took two steps back, still staring at him with that disgusting look.

At this time, Harry heard a faint moan. It was Ron! Harry was ecstatic. He was not dead. It was great! What about Hermione? He couldn't hear her movements. It was as quiet as death on his left side. Harry didn't dare to look back and confirm.

"You're too heavy to do it, Yaxley, almost that girl died." Voldemort whispered, "Batty did a good job."

"Lord, Master..." Yaxley raised his head in confusion, and Batty Crouch, a little beside him, sneered silently.

"I'm all useful to all three of them," Voldemort whispered, still staring at Harry, "those two... not only are the best friends of the savior Harry Potter, but -- according to Barty, they're all good with Felix Hepp?"

"Yes, Master," said Batty Crouch Jr. respectfully, "especially the Muggle girl, who became Hepp's assistant in the second grade."

Voldemort sneered twice.

"The pure blood family has completely fallen, and the descendants have become waste, and the despicable Muggle seeds have crawled onto their heads."

He began to pace and walked around in front of Harry. Harry stood there with his eyes staring, his wand was tightly clenched. If he gave Voldemort a spell at this time, and then used the flying spell to summon the trophy... No, little Crouch and the Death Eater were staring at him.

Harry was anxious. Voldemort was not killed alone for the time being, but he knew it was not because of kindness, but because of a more evil plan. Harry's brain was running rapidly, and he was surprised to find that even though his physical condition was in poor condition, the brain closure still played its own role, so that he would not fall into the abyss of despair.

"I was looking forward to this scene a long time ago, meeting Harry Potter, the 'Great Savior'..." Voldemort said softly, Harry's after light followed his slender and pale fingers, holding a magic wand lightly, as if any disarming spell could make the wand come out of his hand.

Harry is ready to move.

Voldemort was too arrogant. He was defenseless and thought he had no power to fight back. Could this be his flaw?

"...I look forward to rebirth with his bloodline, breaking the arrangement of fate, and killing him in one fell swoop. But I failed," said Voldemort regretfully, his naked feet stomping on the soil and weeds, making a rustling sound. "Hogwarts is more dangerous than thirteen years ago. In addition to the protector of the mud and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore... Another Felix Hepp, who is more radical than the old Dumbledore, takes the initiative..."

"I have to give up the best plan - after almost losing my only loyal servant." Voldemort stopped, squinting his snake-like eyes and saying unhappily. Harry tried not to make his movements staring at Voldemort's hands too obvious-

"So I settled for the second best... You don't know how frustrated I was, Harry Potter, I tasted the frustration again..."

"Abandon your martial arts—" Harry shouted, and Voldemort waved his hand suddenly—

"Click!"

Harry's wand fell to the ground. Harry widened his eyes, and he didn't see clearly at all. Voldemort's movements were too fast, as if he was prepared for a long time. At this time, Voldemort slowly turned around, stared at him for a few seconds, raised his wand and said softly: "Heart-broken!"

Harry felt the bones in his body burning. His head must have cracked along the scar, his eyes bulged and could explode under huge pressure at any time. His body bent in the opposite direction, as if he wanted to fold him in half. He hoped to stop quickly... He hoped to faint... and die...

Harry found that the pain on his body weakened a little, and a hint of warmth came from his thigh, which was the amulet in his pocket! At this moment, two forces were protecting him, one was brain closure and the other was the knot given to him by Nona. Although each effect was very weak, it did play a role.

Voldemort's snake face was twisted, showing a cruel and satisfied smile, and his wand was pointed at him, not sure how long it took-

The torture is finally over.

Harry was limp, sweat wet his back and gasped violently. His head was still pressed against the ground, but he still felt the ecstasy in Voldemort's heart. Why did this? Did torture himself make him happy?

Harry couldn't understand this emotion, but he was very sure that he was not wrong - after all, he didn't have a trace of joy now.

"Tie them up." Voldemort whispered.

He walked over alone, Harry's face pressed on the ground, and the wand was not far from him, but he couldn't get it. A rope was wrapped around him, and he was dragged to the ground. The afterglow saw that Ron and Hermione were treated the same way. Ron's legs were twisted unnaturally, and his face was pale. Hermione was like a corpse, with no undulation in her chest.

Then he was hung up by the rope and pressed his back against the cold plane. He was stunned for two seconds before realizing that it was a black tombstone. He also saw clearly who the person in front of him was, Barty Crouch, wearing silver gloves in one of his hands.

"Did you find it, Potter?" Little Crouch licked his lips nervously, "This is the reward from the Dark Lord to me." Harry glared at him. This powerless threat did not affect Little Crouch's movements at all. The rope wrapped around Harry around, without a trace of space from his neck to his ankle.

Crouch turned and left.

"Extend your arm." Voldemort said lazily, Yaxley and Crouch Jr. stretched out their left hand at the same time. Harry saw a bright red tattoo pattern. Voldemort pressed his long, pale index finger on Crouch Jr. The mark turned black, and Crouch Jr. made a slight inhalation.

Voldemort straightened his waist, raised his head, and glanced at the dark cemetery.

"After feeling it, how many people have the courage to come back? How many people will foolishly not come?" he murmured.

Voldemort began to pace again, scanning the cemetery from time to time. Harry didn't know what happened, but he felt that it was definitely not a good thing. He tried his best to think of a way to move the phantom? No, he lost his wand and could not use his wand without a wand like Professor Happ, not to mention that he had two people around him.

He couldn't escape alone.

Wait, Professor Hayp? Harry opened his eyes wide, desperately chasing the ray of inspiration, desperately thinking about what was related to Professor Hayp... He finally thought that it was the Ring of the Weatherobu.

In the third grade, Professor Hepp told him that he, Ron and Hermione's Weatherbuster Ring had been specially treated and could contact the professor actively, to beware of the little dwarf Peter who would transform Animagus.

But Harry was disappointed again. He didn't carry the Weaver Snake Ring with him at all. But... there was one person who might have taken it.

He tried his best to turn his head and look to his left, Hermione was still unconscious.

"Hermione..." Harry whispered, he and Hermione were separated by the gap between the tombstones, but he was tied tightly and could not even kick him out. What's worse, his struggle attracted Voldemort's attention.

"Friends who care about yours? Potter?" Voldemort said softly, and he paced over, "Although it was just a inferior mud breed, she was more useful than you thought..." His eyes flew over Hermione, Harry and Ron, and he said maliciously: "What a dramatic combination of muggy breeds, mixed and pure blood!"

"Recover quickly!" He pointed at Hermione with his wand. Hermione slowly opened her eyes weakly. Seeing Voldemort close at hand, she widened her eyes in fear and leaned back, which touched her injuries and moaned in pain.

But Voldemort turned his head indifferently and looked at Harry.

"I think it's better to let your two best friends witness your death." A cruel smile appeared on his face. "After that, should you let the pure blood kill the mudblood, or the mudblood kill the pure blood? Or, let them all die at the hands of the child... I haven't decided yet, but I believe it will be a good show."

"You... dream." Ron said with a twisted face.

Voldemort looked at him and sneered, "Weasley? The disgusting family - heartbroken!"

Ron screamed in pain.

"No--"

"don't want--"

Harry and Hermione, who had just come back to his senses, shouted, but the smile on Voldemort's face became stronger, "I like this feeling, master the feeling of life and death..." He continued to point at Ron with his wand, causing him to howl in pain, but this time it was not long. Not long after, Voldemort took the initiative to stop and looked around.

The air suddenly filled with the sound of cloaks. There was a phantom of a wizard in every dark place. They all wore hoods and covered their faces. They walked over carefully, and Voldemort took a few steps and stood there silently waiting.

A Death Eater fell to the ground, climbed to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robe.

More and more Death Eaters did this, including Barty Crouch Jr. and Yaxley. The only people standing there were Harry, except Voldemort.

"Welcome to you, Death Eaters," said Voldemort calmly, and he began to give his return speech, and Harry did not think about listening carefully, but instead shook Hermione, who dared not do it too obvious, and Hermione did not notice that she was injured-
To be continued...