Chapter 698: Evil Magic
After that black material was stuffed in his mouth, Harry couldn’t make a sound, but struggled desperately.
But it was useless at all. His hands and feet were tied up and he had completely lost his ability to move.
His body trembled uncontrollably, and the cloaked man began to reach out and grope for him.
He could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood. Harry continued to struggle hard, and the man hit him.
Anxiety and abuse mingled, Harry whined and didn’t know what to say.
Evan hurriedly hugged him from behind and told him to calm down and not to struggle. It was pointless.
There was nothing they could do now but wait calmly for Voldemort’s return…
The man was busy checking the tightness of the cords. After making sure that Harry had been tied so tightly that he couldn’t move, he looked at Evan along the rope and hesitated for a moment. He probably thought that Evan was just a scared little girl that would not hinder the following magic, so he did not care about him.
He left them both on the grass, then, without a word, hurriedly walked away.
Behind Harry, Evan raised his head vigorously and through the thick mist, he saw a stone cauldron in front of them.
Voldemort was just at the foot of the cauldron, and in that baby-like bundle, he was stirring fretfully.
Harry watched it, too, and fear and despair spread in his body.
His scar seared with pain again… and he suddenly knew that he didn’t want to see what was in the bundle… he didn’t want that bundle opened…
Horrible things were about to happen, and he suddenly realized that he and Gabrielle might die here; just like Cedric, who had just died, and then his body had been taken by the evil vampire for experiment…
The next second, Evan heard noises at his feet, and looking down, he saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass.
It glanced at the two of them, hissing, staring at Evan and Harry, as though it couldn’t help swallowing them.
There was a hissing sound inside the bundle, and the snake retreated some distance, circling them unwillingly.
The cloaked man began to fill the cauldron with water, and he could hear t it slopping around.
The stone cauldron was larger than any cauldron Evan had ever seen. It was large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.
The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself.
Suddenly, there were crackling green flames beneath the cauldron, like a dancing incarnation of evil.
The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of the cloaked man tending the fire.
The movements beneath the robes became more agitated, and they heard Voldemort’s high, cold voice again: “HURRY!”
The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.
“It is ready, Master!” The man’s voice trembled uncontrollably as if he were scared to death.
“Now …” said the cold voice.
The man pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them.
In front of Evan, Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.
Evan stared blankly ahead and couldn’t take his eyes off…
It was as though the cloaked man had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind … but worse, a hundred times worse.
Voldemort now had the shape of a crouched human child, except that he did not look anything less like a child.
It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face … no child alive ever had a face like that … flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
It seemed almost helpless. It raised its thin arms and put them around the man’s neck in front of him, and the man lifted it.
As he did so, his hood fell back, and Evan could see the look of fear and anxiety on the man’s pale, weak face, and a trace of madness. He was glorifying the resurrection of Voldemort, which was an evil magic enough to be recorded in history!
He carried Voldemort to the rim of the cauldron, and the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion illuminated the evil, flat face.
Voldemort was then put into the cauldron, and with a hiss, he sank.
Even if there was a distance, Evan could still hear its frail body hit the bottom of the cauldron with a soft thud.
“Here we go!” Evan murmured, holding the wand tightly in his hand.
Harry was praying for it to drown. His scar was burning almost past endurance. ‘Please … let it drown…’ he thought.
The man was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and shouted, “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”
In the blunder on the ground, a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at the man’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
Evan had once asked Lupin and Sirius to search for the grave of Voldemort’s father, but long before that, Voldemort had sent someone to take its contents away, leaving only a destroyed tombstone. When Voldemort met vampires in the forests of Albania, he was already setting the plan.
In front of the cauldron, the man’s body shook violently with the flames, and he paused for a while. Then he pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.
Then he took a long, thin, silvery dagger out of the cloak, and his voice twisted with trembling.
“Flesh … of the servant … w-willingly given … you will … revive … your master!”
He stretched his right hand out in front of him. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.
Both Evan and Harry closed their eyes subconsciously. In the painful screams and gasps, they heard a sickening splash, the dagger fell to the ground, and then something was thrown into the cauldron. It was the man’s arm, blood and flesh.
Evan had seen similar descriptions in countless black magic books, but he never thought he would see them with his own eyes.
That was the evilest and most horrible ritual he had ever seen.
Harry was also gasping in pain, forcing the thin air into his lungs. It was as though he’d been stabbed with the dagger as well.
In the cauldron, the potion had turned a burning red, and the light of it shone through their closed eyelids…
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