In Harry's sight, the mass of clothes on the ground had begun to twist violently as Peter Pettigrew had come as he pushed the cauldron, as if he couldn't wait to wash himself in the cauldron.

Harry began to irresponsibly wonder if the clothes contained Voldemort, then did that count as boiling Voldemort? Vomit...... Sounds like the name of a dish.

He began to stop his divergent thoughts, he couldn't think about it anymore, and the more he thought about it, the more disgusting he felt.

Peter Pettigrew bent his fat body and clumsily stuffed the cauldron with firewood, and then he waved his hand, and a crackling fire lit under the cauldron as the serpent swung outward.

Snakes are supposed to be afraid of fire, right? Harry was a little unsure, but he didn't have much time to think, the liquid in the cauldron was heating up fast, and he felt that the snake had just swam away, and the pot began to boil, and sparks burst out like it was burning. The steam grew thicker, and Peter Pettigrew, who was watching the flames, grew more and more in Harry's eyes.

At the same time, a purple and white mist began to spread around the cemetery, and Harry always felt that the fog looked familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere, but he was not sure.

The mist gradually drifted over, and Harry Ford was in his heart, and hurriedly ran the Brain Occlumency Charm frantically. But Peter Pettigrew, who had his back to the mist, didn't seem to notice, and the fog gradually spread to him, and Peter Pettigrew became more and more restless and impatient.

The fog seemed to erode the human mind, and Harry could see it at a glance - something he had learned about in Pandalia a while ago-

Thinking of Pandaria, Harry suddenly remembered, this energy seemed to be evil energy?

According to the Panda Man and the Mantis Demon, it is the power of some ancient god that can erode people's minds and turn life into a puppet that submits to their will.

Harry didn't have time to think too much about it, though, as things were turning less rosy over there, and it looked like some kind of evil ritual between Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort's hatchlings was about to begin.

The clump of clothes shook even more rapidly, and Harry heard a sharp, cold voice.

"Quick!"

Now the whole surface of the water was full of sparks, as if it were dotted with burning diamonds, and under the purple-white mist steaming, it looked even more eerie.

"It's burned, master......" Peter Pettigrew replied with a wince.

"...... now!" The cold voice said in an unmistakable tone.

Peter Pettigrew ripped off the burden on the ground, revealing its contents, and Harry let out an exclamation, but was suffocated by the stuff in his mouth, and could only whine in vain.

It's like Peter Pettigrew flipping open a rock, revealing a sticky, eyeless ugly thing...... No, it's more terrible than that, a hundred times terrible.

Peter Pettigrew had picked up something that looked like a curled up baby, but Harry had never seen anything more like a baby. It had no hair, and its body seemed to have scales, dry, numb, and not rounded at all. And the color of the skin is still dark, red, like the tender flesh of a wound - some of the skin is still covered with purple and white scars, and the white scars even emit a bright white glow.

Its arms and legs were thin and soft, and as for the face—no living child had such a face—it was a flat snake face with a pair of shiny red vertical children.

The thing looked completely incapable of taking care of itself, and it raised its thin arm and wrapped its arms around Peter Pettigrew's neck as if begging for a hug. If it had been a cute creature that had done it, it might have been cute—but it was a creature that seemed to be Voldemort, and Harry just found it disgusting.

Peter Pettigrew held it in his hand, and Peter Pettigrew's hood fell off, and Harry saw a look of disgust on his pale and frail face in the firelight.

He carried the thing to the edge of the cauldron, and for a moment, Harry saw the splash of water on the potion's surface illuminate the evil flat face. Peter Pettigrew put the thing in the cauldron, and with a strange hissing sound, it grunted down the water, Harry

I heard the soft sound of its limp body touching the bottom of the cauldron.

Let it drown, Harry begged to Merlin inwardly, his scar burning almost unbearable, please...... Let it drown...... I'm willing to study hard every day in exchange for this thing drowning in the cauldron......

Peter Pettigrew was talking, his voice trembling, as if he were a little deranged from fear, his eyes wandering, looking left and right like a mouse, not knowing what he was afraid of.

But soon, a thick purple mist drifted over and into his body, and Peter Pettigrew, as if encouraged by some kind of encouragement, raised his wand, closed his eyes and said to the night sky, "Father's bones, unintentionally donated, can give your son a new life!"

The grave cracked open at Harry's feet, and Harry watched to his horror see a puff of dust rise into the air at the call of Peter Pettigrew and fall gently into the cauldron. The diamond-like surface of the liquid cracked, hissed, sparks flew everywhere, and the liquid turned a vivid blue, and at first glance it was known to be poisonous—and highly poisonous.

Peter Pettigrew whimpered as he pulled a long, thin, silver-glittering dagger from his cloak.

Peter Pettigrew's voice turned into a sobbing of extreme fear again: "Servant...... of the meat - self-...... Give it voluntarily and your master will be reborn!"

He stretched out his right hand, the one missing a finger, and then gripped the dagger tightly with his left hand, and with a few struggles, he gritted his long mouse teeth, closed his eyes and swung vigorously towards his right hand.

Harry realized at the last second what Peter Pettigrew was up to, and he closed his eyes tightly, but he couldn't stop it.

The screams piercing the night sky pierced Harry's brain, and Harry's head began to hurt again, and he had the illusion that he had been stabbed with a dagger. He heard something thud and land, then Peter Pettigrew gasping in pain, followed by a disgusting thud and something being thrown into the cauldron.

Harry didn't want to look at ....... But the potion turned fiery red, and a bright light shot into Harry's closed eyes.

Peter Pettigrew is gasping and moaning in pain. As the painful breath squirted into his face, Harry realized that Peter Pettigrew had arrived in front of him.

"Hatred...... The Blood ...... of the Enemy Forced to give ...... can make your enemies ...... Resurrection!"

Harry couldn't stop him, he was tied so tightly, he struggled desperately to break free from the ropes that bound him, and he saw through his eyes the silver dagger fluttering in Peter's one hand. He felt the tip of the dagger stab into the crook of his arm, and the blood of the fourth-degree enemy (bushi) slowly trickled down the sleeves of his torn school robes.

Peter Pettigrew, who was still wheezing in pain, shuddered and pulled out a small glass vial from his pocket and placed it next to Harry's wound, a small amount of blood spilling into the bottle.

He staggered over to the cauldron with Harry's blood and poured it in. The liquid in the crucible immediately turned milky white, like a crucian carp tofu soup stewed to the ultimate level. Wormtail finished his task and fell to his knees beside the cauldron, crooked, slumped on the ground, holding his bleeding severed arm and sobbing.

The crucible was about to boil, and the diamond-like sparks flew outwards in all directions, so bright and dazzling that everything in Zhou Kingdom turned into a black velvety color.

"Woooooooo Harry whined, unable to say anything from his socks - how could he not cook you, translated? Sons of the Beach.

He kept praying in his heart for Merlin's help, to quickly heat up and boil that strange Voldemort to death......

Then, through the white mist in front of him, he creeped out to see an embryonic prototype slowly rising from the crucible, just like the embryos he had learned from elementary school textbooks in the Muggle world, somewhat transparent, and he could see the bloodshot inside. Soon, the embryo slowly grew, as if it was developing at an accelerated pace, and gradually transformed into a figure in a black robe, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

"Dress me." The cold, shrill voice said behind the vapor. Peter Pettigrew sobbed and moaned, still protecting his stump arm, hurriedly grabbed the black robe wrapped in the burden from the ground, stood up with the pain, shook the black robe, and used one

One hand put it on his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, his eyes staring at Harry coldly...... Harry saw the faces that had often appeared in his nightmares for three years, paler than skeletons, with two large red eyes, a nose as flat as a snake's nose, and two sockets like thin slits in his nostrils......

Predictably, Voldemort was resurrected.

After so many years, so much time, and so many fattening Death Eaters, isn't it just waiting for today? Voldemort squinted at his scarlet snake boy and looked Harry up and down, he wasn't in a hurry to clean up Harry, and now, there was more to do.

Voldemort looked at Harry for a moment, but didn't pay much attention to him, but began to examine his body, his hands were pale and thin, unhealthy in color, and he touched here and there, like a child encountering a novel toy.

It is understandable how rare and rare the long-lost body is, after all, this Voldemort has lived in a geisman state for I don't know how many years, during which he is not limited to leaning over to the Horcrux and sticking to other people's brains...... Speaking of which, this Dark Lord is also aggrieved enough.

At the same time, a bunch of unspeakable-looking monsters were gathering around him, Harry didn't recognize what they were, they looked like skeletons in empty shells, their bodies purple and white, and they exuded an eerie glow.

Peter Pettigrew shivered uncontrollably at the sight of them coming around, as if he had suffered from these things.

"What are you afraid of? Wormtail?" Voldemort's voice was cold and high-pitched, and the mere sound of his voice was enough to send chills down the shoulders.

Harry swore that if he hadn't been tied to a tombstone, he would have fled in fear.

It was so torturous, the voice was like the most vicious snake, tormenting people's nerves.

It hurts, it hurts.

Peter Pettigrew cowered on the ground and said tremblingly, "No...... Nothing, master, I just ...... I was just...... I'm not afraid...... Master, it's because my hands hurt so much......

"Oh...... That's it......" Voldemort looked at Peter Pettigrew for a moment, snorted through his nose, and let out a cold, high-pitched sneer, as if to despise his cowardice.

"Master......" Peter Pettigrew begged with a sob, "you promised, you promised......

Voldemort sighed, gave a languid look, stretched out his thin paws, and pulled his wand from Peter Pettigrew's arms: "Stretch out your arms."

Hearing Voldemort's words, Peter Pettigrew was instantly ecstatic, he knew that the master would not let himself sacrifice his arm in vain, and the master was about to make amends for himself!

Oh, how can it be said to be compensation? It should be said that it was a reward, and he secretly spit in his heart that he didn't know the depth of his thoughts.

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The devil's refusal instantly cooled Peter Pettigrew's heart to the bottom, and he cried and begged, "Please, please, master......

Voldemort bent down, pulled Wormtail's left arm, and grabbed his sleeve with his wand and rolled it up to his elbow. It can be seen that there is something on the skin, which looks like a bright red tattoo, and a skeleton spits out a snake from its mouth, which is the same figure that appeared in the Quidditch World Cup, which is the Dark Mark representing Voldemort and his reactionary gang.

Voldemort scrutinized it, ignoring the uncontrollable sobs of the wormtail.

"It's back," Voldemort whispered, "they'll all notice it...... Now, our time is coming......