Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

For a normal person, it takes courage to cut off a part of his arm by self-mutilation. It is no wonder that he is so afraid and hesitant.

Peter Pettigrew tremblingly stretched out his right hand-the hand with one missing finger, and then held the dagger tightly with his left hand and waved it to his right hand.

"Stab."

At that moment, he closed his eyes and tried not to watch the cruel and bloody scene.

A shrill scream resounded through the night sky, and flew several owls perched on the yew tree not far away. The branches shook and rustled.

With a slight thump, one of Peter's arms fell into the boiling crucible at this time.

He panted in pain, and sat down next to the cauldron, his still intact arm supporting his body.

"Very good, well done." Voldemort in the cauldron smiled with satisfaction, "I feel my strength is recovering. Next, we only need to wait quietly for the arrival of the kid, right? tail?"

"Yes, my great master." He said excitedly. Once Voldemort regains his strength, he will receive supreme awards. Even if he made a few mistakes before, he still returned to his master and did his best. Working hard with his big plan,

"Okay, Master." Peter said respectfully, but still frowning from the pain, the intact hand picked up the wand that had just been thrown on the ground.

"Trash." Voldemort sneered, and then only the thin arm with a lot of liquid medicine attached to Peter pointed at Peter's broken arm and said coldly:

"Healed as before!" A light flashed, and then the bloody severed hand healed immediately.

"I will let you get a new arm later, which will be stronger. This is a reward for you." Voldemort said with a chuckle. The effect of this wish seems to be that his shrill voice is not so penetrating. People.

"Thank you for your generosity, Master!" Peter Pettigrew said flatly, and then slumped on the ground, regaining his strength, and waiting.

"The blood of the enemy-enemy...is forced to donate...to resurrect your enemy..." Peter muttered to himself.

"Oh, our protagonist hasn't come yet, Peter." Voldemort is in a great mood now, that uncomfortable feeling has been left behind by him, his power is about to recover, and the frightening Dark Lord is about to return. , So he even had the mood to tease his men.

"Master, I'm just trying the spell, I'm afraid I will forget it later," Peter Pettigrew said quickly.

Then something amazing happened, and the smile on Voldemort's disgusting baby's face suddenly disappeared.

The liquid in the cauldron turned dazzling white at this time.

The crucible was about to boil, and the diamond-like sparks splashed around, so bright and dazzling, everything around it turned into a black velvety color.

Suddenly, the sparks on the crucible went out.A white vapor rose from the cauldron.

"Insect...tail...bar?" A chill that came straight from the soul struck Peter Pettigrew. He still doesn't know what went wrong, but Voldemort's voice was full of hatred and trembling deep into his bones. Let him cold all over his body.

Did the resurrection fail?

Peter Pettigrew couldn't help but think so.

Then, through the white mist in front of him, he horribly saw the black figure of a man slowly rising from the cauldron, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

Then he was thrown on the ground, and the black robe that was responsible for wrapping the package suddenly moved, rushed into the cauldron, and put it on Voldemort's body.

"Oh, I thought you were just cowardly, stupid, and not so loyal to me, but I didn't expect that you still have hatred in my emotions?"

The man said coldly and sharply.

Dwarf Peter was sweating, and he vaguely guessed what was going on.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at his servant, a face paler than a skeleton, his two big eyes were red, his nose was flat like a snake's, and his nostrils were two slits...

Voldemort was resurrected.

Voldemort began to examine his body. His hands were like large pale spiders. His long, pale fingers stroked his chest, arms, and face; those red eyes appeared brighter in the dark, and his pupils were split like cats. eye.He raised his hands and moved his fingers.

Peter Pettigrew could not see the expression of his master in front of him, but his chilly back and his keen premonition for danger made him understand that Voldemort seemed to be in a bad mood.

At least it doesn't meet the joy of getting the body back.

A big snake suddenly sprang out from the gloomy grass at this time, its huge body twisted flexibly, and then began to gradually entangle around Voldemort.

Then he left quickly as if untying the rope, crawling under Voldemort's feet.

In a short time, Voldemort had put on his clothes.

"Oh? Nagini, are you happy for me too? But I'm not in the mood to be happy now." Voldemort said lightly, unable to see the happiness and anger, but Peter Pettigrew knew that he was about to face the man's terrible anger. .

"Voldemort's return should be perfect. Using the blood of the boy who ruined his inheritance as a sign of humiliation was a better choice."

Voldemort murmured.

"But now it seems to be ruined by an idiot. You said what should I do with him."

Peter Pettigrew was lying on the ground shaking like chaff, UU reading www.uukanshu.com dare not say a word.

"Listen." Voldemort said softly suddenly, Peter Pettigrew immediately obeyed the command subconsciously, and pricked his ears.

"I feel the space is trembling, and many people are coming here." Voldemort said. Nagini suddenly straightened up his pliable body at this time, looking around quite anthropomorphically, the snake eyes turned, scarlet. Shinko stretched out and twisted.

"Let's guess who they are?" Voldemort said softly, in a nostalgic tone, and then glanced at Peter who was aside.

"Ah!" The pain deep into the bone marrow caused Peter Pettigrew to let out a scream, and began to roll on the ground. He watched the wound on his healed arm suddenly burst open, bleeding again, and the arm again Extending upwards, there was something on the skin that seemed to be a bright red tattoo pattern-a skull spit out a snake from the mouth, it was the pattern that appeared in the Quidditch World Cup: the black mark.Voldemort looked at it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable sobbing.

The black blood looked so weird and coquettish in the faint night.