Harry's mind was blank at this time, he didn't know why he was here, and then the fear of life and death suddenly came to his mind, his back was cold, the back of his head trembled wildly, he tried to struggle to get up and run away, to avoid the green light, but suddenly he found that his legs were no longer under his own control.

Because of fear.

The scar on his head ached sharply. He had never felt such intense pain in his life. The wand slipped to the ground, he covered his face with his hands, his legs bent to the ground, he couldn't see anything in front of him, his head looked like it was about to burst, he looked up, only to find himself dazed, and he couldn't even tell which direction the light was coming from.

His turquoise, hopeless eyes reflected a faint green glow that symbolized death, and then the point of light grew larger and closer, until it threatened to take his life.

Suddenly, an ancient tree beside Harry suddenly moved, and the thick branches suddenly pressed down, bending and spiraling deftly, cutting through an elegant arc, shoveling under Harry's body with great precision, and the flexible branches swept him into the air, all in one go, helping Harry dodge the mortal blow.

Harry was hung in this way, half-suspended in the air, and only then did his pain lessen a little, and he could see the ground in a dim light.

He found himself in a vast cemetery, surrounded by tall and low tombstones of different styles, which looked very much like marble.

He hung upside down, looking down at the tombstone in front of him, and he struggled to make out what had been carved into it with a knife and axe: Tom Riddle was neatly written on it.

It was only then that he felt that his eyesight had been completely restored.

Then he saw a man standing not far from him with a face paler than a skeleton, with two large red eyes, a nose as flat as a snake's, and two thin slits in his nostrils......

This is the man who has appeared in his sleep countless times - Voldemort.

And this man was looking at him with a cruel smile at this time, as if the next moment, a green light would shoot out from the tip of this man's staff, and shoot straight at him without hesitation, taking away his life.

"I want to calm down," Harry told himself desperately, trying to calm his blank mind and regain his ability to think.

"I'm not dead now, I'm sparing in front of Voldemort. He had to let his mind flow through his mind and accept the reality.

"Who saved me?" Harry thought, then looked into Voldemort's eyes, and the man not only looked at him, but also scanned the other end of the cemetery, his scarlet eyes full of fear.

Harry tilted his head to glance at a tall figure standing quietly not far away, wearing flowing silver wizards' robes, knee-length silver beard dancing in the wind.

The wizarding robe was Dumbledore's official attire for the Triwizard Tournament today, and Harry guessed that only Dumbledore could save him from Voldemort's men.

Because this is the only person the mystery man is afraid of.

Well, Hagrid admired Dumbledore very much, so he often said this to Harry, and others always said that Hogwarts at that time was the only pure land that suffered from Voldemort's reign of terror, and as long as Dumbledore was still there, he would not dare to set foot on the Hogwarts campus.

"Dumbledore, what are you going to do now? Maybe you've got a problem, and you're still fighting me like this while keeping this boy safe?" Voldemort said triumphantly, rubbing his yew wand as if he had the upper hand now.

Of course, this was just a ploy by Voldemort to disturb Dumbledore's mentality.

Harry took the opportunity to take a sneaky look at everything around him, and only then did he see that there were many people with black hoods lying around Voldemort, looking embarrassed and not showing their faces.

There was a short man without a hood, his left hand seemed to have been cut by a knife, revealing blood vessels, and blood kept flowing slowly from the wound and dipped into the nearby mud, and this short man was also in a coma at the moment, and Harry had no doubt that the man's blood would die if he continued to bleed.

Harry recognized it as Peter Pettigrew, and he was so impressed with the man that he deceived himself and almost toyed everyone into applause, but in the end the plot was revealed, and it seemed that he had to take refuge in Voldemort's hands.

"Harry, protect yourself. Dumbledore's voice was low, and he reminded him solemnly, but he didn't look back, and the old voice passed through the air, along with the cries of several crows in the night sky, and entered Harry's ears.

If Harry could see Dumbledore's face, he would have seen that Dumbledore's face had long since lost the smiling expression he used to wear, and his face was serious, and there was no happy spark under the half-moon lenses, but full of vigilance and prudence.

No one can afford to be taken lightly by Voldemort.

The old man shook his wand slightly.

Then the twigs seemed to come to life, gently lowering Harry back to the ground.

The loose sand and gravel beneath Voldemort suddenly began to coalesce, and he was ready to attack.

In the blink of an eye, the mud and sand gathered into a tall and tangible sand snake, vividly spitting letters, twisting its body, and arching its body, as if ready to kill its opponent at any time.

Voldemort was well aware of the current gap in strength between the two.

Not to mention that Dumbledore was going to be older than him and had more experience than him, if it weren't for Dumbledore's bottom line and scruples, he would be even more at a disadvantage.

Of course, this is also the point that he has always looked down on Dumbledore, in order to win, he should have done whatever it takes, but this sanctimonious old guy "does not dare" and "unwillingly" use those forbidden spells.

However, even if Dumbledore is "bound" to the extreme in his eyes at this moment, he is an extremely powerful opponent.

He was resurrected, and his body has not yet returned to its full strength.

All because of the fact that the perfect resurrection he expected came out of the big basket.

Thinking of this, Voldemort clenched his slender and pale fingers, refraining from hiding his extreme anger, but even if he was furious now, he had to calm himself down and face the powerful enemy in front of him.

Needless anger will only allow oneself to make mistakes and allow the enemy to seize the opportunity.