Shivering brought a cup of hot tea to the seat at Voldemort's side, and then retreated into the shadows behind Voldemort's chair, prostrate on his knees.

Vitia remained silent, silent.

Her gesture of resistance caused an imperceptible red light to flash in Voldemort's snake eyes, but his face, which could no longer be described as ugly, still maintained a smile of grace,

"Speaking of food--"

Voldemort said,

"What a coincidence, I was about to have my dinner, come, Miss Cleona, I think you must have not had time for supper in order to travel, so sit down. Shining? ”

Even the sweaty white face on his body flashed in alarm, and then disappeared into the air with a thud, apparently to prepare dinner.

Without removing her black cloak, Vitia walked over with a blank face and sat down under Voldemort's side head, her eyes flickering for a moment as she landed on the teacup in front of her that exuded curling eyes.

There is a man at Hogwarts who also loves tea, but he prefers green tea to black tea.

"You look good, Mr. Voldemort—"

Vitia didn't touch the teacup, she said coldly.

"Thanks to the plant life essence you left behind before you left, Miss Cleona-" The baby-like Voldemort raised his skeletal stick arm and admired it in the candlelight, a slight smile on his lips, as if he had recovered really well,

"It's better than we were in the Albanian forest, isn't it, at least, I now have the strength to read the newspaper on my own--"

Syllable!

Just as Voldemort said this, a thick sore on his withered forearm, which looked like a burn, suddenly burst open, and blood and pus flowed down his arm like a stream.

Vitia frowned slightly, her gaze swept over Voldemort's face, although the expression on that distorted face did not change, she could clearly see that in the depths of Voldemort's scarlet eyes, there was a flash of humiliation and fury like the raging sea.

"Ah, it's not very stable, sometimes it is--"

Voldemort picked up the wand in front of him with his other unmistakable hand, and he cast an intricate healing spell on the sore, and countless shimmering silver dust fell from under the tip of the wand near the 'boiling sore', suppressing the chaos within.

"It's Brian's Flame Curse—"

After his arm returned to its burned state, Voldemort flipped his wrist and admired himself with interest,

"I must admit that I was amazed at Brian's Flame Charm, Miss Cleona, not even your marvelous potions can suppress the magic of Blazing--"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Voldemort--"

Vitia's eyes twitched for a moment, and she whispered.

How did Voldemort come across Amosta Blaine's fire?

It was because of Vetia's self-initiated actions in the Quidditch World Cup, in order to save his only helper at the time, he had to expose himself and temporarily forced Amosta Bryan back by blowing himself up.

"Ah, don't feel guilty, Miss Cleona—"

Vitia's apology was clearly insincere, but Voldemort nodded in satisfaction,

"Who doesn't make mistakes, even me, because I made stupid mistakes to get into such a situation. Thankfully, everything is back on track, and those stupid mistakes will eventually be corrected--"

"Thank you for your magnanimity--"

Vitia nodded faintly.

The house-elf cooked at any impeccable pace, and after a short while, Twinkle reappeared outside the stone room, its head bowed and did not dare to look at the two people in the room, and after a few trips, the long table was already full of plates containing food.

In my heart, this is already a hearty place, but Voldemort smacked his lips dissatisfied,

"I'm sorry, Miss Cleona, it's a tough time—"

Voldemort looked up and slowly surveyed the stone chamber, and finally, his gaze fell on the sculptural Vitia, and his fingers tapped the Daily Prophet he was reading, the cover of which was a dreamy ice castle.

The footage of the Ice Castle created by Amosta and Dumbledore that night was not recorded, but after the ball, the young wizards still left some photos of the Ice Castle in commemoration, and the combination of grandeur and fantasy of the building, as well as the hot topic of the Triwizard Tournament, immediately made the news headlines.

"--certainly can't compare to the service you've enjoyed at Hogwarts, Miss Cleona, but I can guarantee that it won't be long before you'll be back there again, and I mean, of course, without pretense."

Voldemort said with a smile.

"I'm looking forward to that day—"

Vitia always asked and answered, reluctant to say a word, but Twinkle's body shook violently like a sieve in Voldemort's exposed dissatisfaction, and its face towards the ground was full of fear and despair, and it was clear that it had not been without a lesson in the days it had returned.

"I'm not blaming you, Twilight--"

Even though he wasn't looking at Twinkle, Voldemort knew everything about Twinkle's state, and he said slowly,

"I think you've done your best, haven't you?"

"Mercifully the Dark Lord."

Unable to contain her fear, Twinkle cried bitterly, but instead of winning sympathy, her cry made Voldemort's eyes wide, perhaps because of Vetia's presence, and he did not punish Sparkle for his 'habits' of this woman.

"Alright, Twilight—"

Voldemort said lazily,

"Maybe you can go next door and help beckon my faithful servant over, I know he's in the fun of the game, but it's important to have dinner—"

This was probably the most frightened and struggling scene in the eyes of the elf named Twinkle when she walked into the room, as if she would rather go to the next door, but it was clearly clear that if it showed the slightest resistance, it would be death.

The Dark Lord doesn't keep it because he needs someone to cook, it dies, and then, it becomes the dinner of the terrifying serpent.

If it can save the old master, Twinkle is willing to die, but in the current situation, it must live.

Not long after it disappeared again, the never-ending wailing of the door suddenly became high-pitched, and then it completely declined, and then, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged man walked out from behind the door.

It was a pale-skinned, flushed middle-aged man, a face filled with a distorted smile, his eyes full of madness, and at this moment, he came from next door and gasped excitedly, his clothes were stained with blood, and the hand holding the wand was slowly dropping blood to the ground as if it had been soaked in blood.

"It's you--"

When he saw the figure sitting beside his master, Barty Krach Jr. was stunned, and then he became furious, and he walked quickly, pointed his wand at the back of Vitia's head, and his face was cruel and hideous.

"How dare you! How do you deserve to sit with a great host! ”

"Oh, dear Barty—"

Vitia was unmoved, she didn't even glance back at Barty Crouch Jr., but Voldemort smiled fakely,

"I already told you, Barty, didn't I? Miss Cleona helped Lord Voldemort in his toughest times. Help him—help him out of a desperate situation, and you should show respect to her—"

"Oh, my master!"

A moment ago, the hideousness on Barty Jr.'s face turned to humility, and he quickly walked to Voldemort's side, crouched down and kissed the back of his hand,

"I didn't go against your will, master, I just. It's just that, it cannot be tolerated, and no one has the slightest disrespect for you! ”

"Miss Chryona doesn't mean anything disrespectful to me, Barty--"

Voldemort shook his head slowly, and then, his excitement suddenly soared,

"Ah, I should probably apologize to you, Miss Cleona, I just called you a guest, but actually—"

Voldemort smiled and said,

"You're my family, like Barty. Truly family! ”

Barty Jr. burst into tears, and Voldemort patted him on the head, and he looked at the food on the table, and then said with great interest,

"Come on, Barty and Miss Cleona, this is. Oh, it's a late Christmas dinner, Voldemort and his family's party, of course, it's going to look a little shabby, I guess, you don't mind, right? ”

(End of chapter)