A scar on his forehead that had never been more painful than ever told Harry the identity of the bald man with no nose in front of him...

"Voldemort!?" Harry exclaimed, "How are you... You should be at Hogwarts by now!?"

The Death Eaters in the circle suddenly took a big breath of cold air, as if Harry had said something terrible.

Roger jumped to his feet angrily in the back, and shouted angrily as if he was about to step forward with his sleeves rolled up: "You little bastard, how dare you call the Dark Lord by his name!? It seems that someone has to teach you what it means to be polite!"

Voldemort stretched out his hand to stop Roger, who was about to rush up, looked at the little savior with scarlet eyes, and said calmly: "Either ignorance, or stupidity to a certain extent." You're tied up here now, and I think it's probably the reason for that. ”

The Death Eaters around them burst into laughter.

At this time, Harry finally noticed two people standing behind Voldemort, dressed completely different from the hooded and face-covered Death Eaters around him, Roger Transfigurated Bellatrix whom he did not recognize, and the other being Snape.

At this time, Snape's eyes were fixed on the empty space of the cemetery, and he never looked at Harry.

"Ahh Yes, it was my loyal Severus who tied you from under the hooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool," Voldemort glanced back at Harry's gaze, and then a terrible grin appeared on his face, "And he was the one who rescued me from the heavy guards of Hogwarts." He's going to get the reward that everyone can only dream of, but I don't think you can see it. Because you will die at my hands tonight..."

Voldemort slowly stepped forward, turned to Harry, and raised his wand: "Drill the heart and cut the bone!"

Harry was tormented in a pain he had never felt before, he felt his bones burn all over his body, his head splitting along the scar, his eyeballs spinning wildly in his skull. He wants to stop soon... I wish I had passed out... Dead...

Harry's body struggled violently under the ropes, the slightest hint of pain echoing in the night sky, and Roger noticed Snape's hands clenched tightly, his eyes over the tombstone as if he were suddenly extremely interested in the surrounding bushes.

Voldemort lowered his wand, and the torture was abruptly over. Halliden was limp on a rope on Voldemort's father's tombstone, and the laughter of the Death Eaters around him had not stopped.

"I think you've seen how weak this boy is," Voldemort whispered, "but I'm going to dispel all the misunderstandings in everyone's minds. Harry Potter escaped from me by complete fluke. Now I'm going to kill him to prove my strength, here and now, in front of you, there is no Dumbledore here to protect him, and no one to sacrifice for him. I'll give him a chance, and he can fight me, so you don't wonder who's stronger. ”

"Put him down, Bella, so he can draw his wand. ”

Roger approached Harry with excitement on his face, and with a casual wave of his silver hand, he cut the rope that tied Harry to the tombstone. Harry desperately reached the ground with his feet, and was able to support himself as the rope was untied.

Roger was close enough to tell that little Harry's legs were shaking. Although it cannot be ruled out that Snape was tied too tightly, causing the blood on Harry's body to be unable to circulate and his legs to be numb, it is unlikely that he is not nervous at all to stand in the encirclement of a group of enemies who are eyeing him.

Harry stood in the overgrown cemetery, surrounded by Death Eaters who had gathered close around him and Voldemort, squeezing out the space where the Death Eaters who weren't there should have been. Roger looked Harry up and down with contempt in his eyes, let out a loud sneer, and then went straight back to the circle of the Death Eaters.

"Did you learn to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly, his scarlet eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Harry didn't speak, but Voldemort went on to himself.

"Then let's bow to each other, Harry," Voldemort said, owing, but his serpent face kept looking at Harry, "Come on, etiquette is to be observed... Dumbledore must want you to behave nicely... Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters laughed again. Voldemort's lipsless mouth smiled.

But Harry didn't bend down, he drew his wand, but stubbornly didn't move. At the same time, Roger saw a look of confusion on his face.

But it has to be said that Harry was not scared to pee his pants was already a very brave performance. The one who proposed to duel with him was the Dark Lord who made the entire wizarding world dare not mention his name more than ten years ago, and the difference in strength was probably one in the sky and one on the ground; if he wanted to escape, not to mention whether he could escape in front of Voldemort, even if he was surrounded by Death Eaters, the ratio to him was at least thirty to one.

With a little brain, he could see that he had no chance of winning this duel...

"I said, bow. Seeing that Voldemort, who was motionless, raised his wand, Harry's spine bent as if a large, invisible hand was mercilessly pressing his back forward. The Death Eaters laughed even harder.

"Very well," Voldemort whispered, raising his wand, and the pressure on Harry's back disappeared, "Now you look at me like a man... Keep your head high, just like your father did when he died..."

"Now... We duel. ”

Voldemort raised his wand and was trained by Roger... Well, Harry, who was training, reacted quickly, and an iron armor spell instantly crossed in front of him. But the Iron Armor Charm didn't protect him, and he was hit by the Drill Heart Charm again.

The sharp pain apparently took over every inch of Harry's nerves, as if he had been pierced by a white-hot knife into every inch of his skin, and he fell to the ground, his body convulsing violently, and the screams of misery echoed through the night sky.

When Voldemort raised his wand and stopped the magic, Harry rolled over and got up, his body shaking uncontrollably from the intense pain. He staggered against the Death Eater's wall and was thrust back against Voldemort.

"Pause," Voldemort said, two slit nostrils flaring in excitement, "rest for a while... It hurts, Harry, and you don't want me to do it again, do you?"

Harry didn't speak, he raised his wand and gave his answer with action: "Thunderbolt!"

Voldemort, however, reacted more quickly, bounced back at the spell's artwork. Harry was struck by his own spell, and his feet flew backwards from the ground, and he fell to the ground.

"You're attacking me?" Voldemort whispered. The Death Eaters stopped laughing. "Well done, Harry, your parents must be proud of you, especially your filthy Muggle mother..."

Voldemort slowly approached Harry, who was lying on the ground moaning, and finally crouched down after staring into Harry's eyes, "I'm going to destroy you, Harry." After tonight, no one will question my strength. After tonight, when people talk about you, they'll just talk about how you're begging me to give you a good time. And I, as a benevolent demon king, have fulfilled your request..."

"Get up!" Voldemort commanded, and his wand controlled Harry, who was lying on the ground, to his feet, as he turned and took a few quick steps back to a suitable distance. After all, sticking so close is not suitable for wizards to cast magic.

This time, however, Harry didn't seem to be going to face Voldemort again, and with the agility he had developed in a Quidditch match, he lunged to the side and rolled behind the marble tombstone.

At the same time, a spell was fired in the direction where Harry was hiding. The spell struck the tombstone, and the sound of the stone shattering was heard clearly.

"Don't be pointed at me, Harry Potter!" Voldemort exclaimed, "I want you to see me kill you!

Voldemort's grim voice drew closer, and Harry curled up behind the tombstone, knowing it was all over. There is no hope, isolation and helplessness. He listened to Voldemort's approach, and felt like a hide-and-seek child, curled up here and died...

But before Harry could finish his desperate self-pity, a force suddenly surged from his lower back, forcing him to stumble out from behind the tombstone.

Voldemort had been prepared, and before Harry could shout "Who the hell kicked me!", an Arvada Death Spell with a blinding green light struck the staggering figure with precision.

All Harry could see was the pale hand with the wand waving, and the green light flashed, and everything was gone.

He was lying face down on the ground, his floor-to-ceiling crooked eyes piercing his temples, his right arm tilted at an awkward angle, his mouth wide open. Looks like he's completely dead.

Roger quietly shrank back from the other direction of the tombstone, hiding his merit and fame.

But instead of shouts of victory celebrating Harry Potter's death, there were hurried footsteps, ear-to-ear talking, and eager whispers.

Because Voldemort didn't look much better than Harry, he also fell, and when the Requisition Curse hit Harry, he fainted and lay limply on his back on the weeds of the cemetery. The Death Eaters all gathered around their masters, trying to figure out what was going on.

Roger quickly squeezed back to Voldemort's side, and unceremoniously slapped Comrade Fu's face: "Don't sleep, hurry up for me..."

The surrounding Death Eaters were stunned by his actions, and all the Death Eaters who had come over immediately fled from Voldemort's side and returned to the crowd around the clearing. Only 'Bellatrix' remained behind, crouching above Voldemort's head.

"Who the hell kicked me!!" just then, Harry suddenly got up from the ground, looked around and shouted loudly. The Death Eaters were in an uproar, and everyone was in a panic.

Voldemort, who had fainted at the same time as Harry, awoke at the same time, ignoring his aching face, and barely got up from the ground, all the while pushing Bellatrix who was standing in front of him.

"Get out of here, I don't need help!" he said coldly, his voice unusually weak: "That boy... Is he dead?"

A strange smile hung on Roger's face, and he moved out of the way of his body, blocking his view.

Harry, who was looking for the culprit who framed him, was holding his wand in full force to watch out for the Death Eaters around him, but no one cared about him anymore, they were all talking to each other, and the atmosphere in the cemetery began to become strange.

"How could you still be alive!" Voldemort roared, quickly taking a few steps forward and raising his wand, as if ready to make up for Harry's last.

"Arvada... Uhh

Roger's kidney blow directly pierced Lao Fu's left waist, and the silvery-white shining metal fingertips pierced Voldemort's robe in the lower abdomen on the front.

Voldemort glanced down, and slowly turned his head in disbelief to see who had launched the sneak attack behind him...

"Why?" Voldemort asked with difficulty as he looked at Bellatrix's unfamiliar expression. At the same time, the wand in his hand endured the pain a little suddenly, and the silver-white severed hand immediately detached from Roger's severed arm, and directly merged into the wound in his lower abdomen, temporarily filling the huge gap.

"Hey, it's not going to work for me, but this magic looks pretty good," Roger said, raising his left hand, which was regenerating at a speed visible to the naked eye, in disbelief.

"Is that you!?" Voldemort's pupils shrank, and he immediately recognized who was standing in front of him, and raised his wand at the same time. Because as far as he knows, only one person can do that.

"It's not me!" Roger habitually denied, and quickly used his muscular left hand and one mouth to knock Voldemort to the ground.

"I'm Bellatrix, master. Don't you recognize me after a while?" kicked Voldemort's wand off his hand, and kicked it down his throat.

"You're definitely not her, you're Roger," Voldemort reluctantly said as his throat was crushed.

"I'm Bellatrix. Don't you believe you're looking there?" said Roger, motioning for Voldemort to look at his right hand, which he was rubbing against the ground, and then pressed his feet.

With a gabba bang, Voldemort's palm, which had only been acquired for a short time, turned into a puddle of rotten flesh with blurred flesh.

"Now who am I?" asked Roger, digging his nostrils.

"......" Voldemort's face was a little confused because of the pain, could it really be that he guessed wrong? This thing wasn't the annoying bastard? after all, there was no point in asking such an inconsequential question at such an urgent moment, right?