Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

"Take me as food?" Voldemort's expression turned gloomy for an instant, and he felt an unbearable insult.

The man just waved his pale hand lightly, and an invisible barrier blocked the group of fruits. The fruits stopped in the middle of the air in an unphysical manner, and then fell suddenly, rolling in disorderly on the sand.

Just as Voldemort was about to turn around and leave, the fruits suddenly bounced restlessly, and a scorching air got into the two slits that Voldemort could barely call his nose.

A series of explosions were emitted from not far away, and the dazzling light seemed to pierce people's eyes, as if the entire island was shaking with this series of explosions.

"Damn it." Voldemort was almost overwhelmed by this sudden explosion, and he waved his wand frantically against the splashing sand in all directions.

After that was not a long journey, Voldemort had to spend his energy to deal with the strange, endless magical creatures. For a while, strong ants with the size of a fist and the size of the waves attacked him like an army. For a while, the sky is not In the distance, there will be another black, manic bird, roaring harshly.Charge him tirelessly.

Even if Voldemort didn't care about their threats, it was troublesome.

A few pieces of the black robe were even damaged by the explosion just now.

The gray-headed face was a perfect fit to describe Voldemort at this time.

But now his mood has calmed down instead, throwing away the unreasonable irritability at the time.

Calm thinking is a prerequisite for an extraordinary wizard.

Especially when he is not yet at his peak.

He can't afford to lose.

Voldemort became more and more cautious. He slowly stepped up the stone steps, cautiously guarding against triggering any trap. Lucius was delaying time for him, entangled Dumbledore, that nasty old man at any time Will come.

It seems that all the traps have been exhausted, and there are no obstacles on this stone step.

Voldemort dragged his robe and walked step by step to the stone gate made of a block of granite. He attached his slender and pale, bone-like palm to it, chanting a curse.

With a "gala" sound, the Shimen opened, and a decayed smell immediately overflowed.

The energetic magical creatures in the outside world and the lifeless cell in between formed a sharp contrast at this time.

Voldemort walked in and walked towards the end without hesitation. The tip of the yew wand glowed faintly, illuminating the way forward.

Some prisoners saw him through the railing, but as if they hadn't seen him, they were stupid and dull, while others were asleep, as if the dreams brought by sleep could make him escape everything.

This is the aftereffect of being tortured by the dementors.

Voldemort was not worried about his subordinates. They were the craziest dark wizards. Their spirits might be languished by the dementors, but they would never completely destroy their will.

He wanted to find his men first, and he could deal with these potentially useless prisoners later. If they were released, they would surely make Dumbledore suffer for a long time.

"Who are you? You were arrested too?"

Voldemort continued to go deeper, only to realize that someone had remained conscious and stopped him.

This is a sturdy bald young man with black skin. He doesn't look like an Englishman. He has a strange accent, but he seems to be from Africa.

"Are you not affected?" A cruel light flashed through Voldemort's scarlet eyes, and no one had dared to be so polite to him for a long time.

But he still held up his temper and asked in a cold tone.

"Oh, I don't know, all I know is that when I came in here, they were like this." The man laughed and said, without consciously being a prisoner, and seemed to be a little happy for the entry of this newcomer.

"It's so boring here," the man said."Are you a newcomer here? Did the Auror bet you?" he asked curiously.

"I can send you to experience a great adventure, it must be fun."

A green light flashed in the dark corridor.

he died.

Voldemort didn't need an important reason to kill.

Voldemort stepped slowly deeper. The man's words just now seemed to suggest some hints to him, but he still couldn't deduce anything from that little information. As for the mind-consciousness, he didn't want to waste time on this for the time being.

"Antonin Dolohov." A happy smile appeared on Voldemort's pale face, and he murmured to himself that he had found one of his most capable officers.

The man fell into the cell. He had a long, pale, twisted face, and his temperament was a bit close to Voldemort, but his body was big and round, which diminished this feeling.

He should be one of Voldemort's most powerful dark wizards. He once combined with several other Death Eaters to kill Molly Weasley's two brothers Fabian and Gideon Prewitt.

He closed his eyes tightly at this time and seemed to fall asleep.

"Resume quickly!" The cold spell sound echoed in the cell.

Dolohov opened his eyes when he heard this.

All the emotions that represent colors are lost in those eyes, and some are just endless holes, which is heart palpitating. This man seems to have lost his soul.

Voldemort felt his heart twitch, and an emotion called anger spread across his chest.

He gritted his teeth and said bitterly, "Dumbledore!"

Voldemort left the small prison, he quickened his pace and moved deeper.

Suddenly, his bone-like hand trembled slightly.

He saw a woman sitting on a tattered wooden chair. Her smooth and black hair was now withered together, extending out many branches, which seemed brittle to the touch and shattered.

She stared at the man in front of her blankly, as if he was air or some other transparent substance.

Who is she?

Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the three sisters of the Black family.

If it was the usual, she would crawl over frantically, chanting his name, and kissing his toes even if she still had a little bit of consciousness.

The man licked his dry lips, his pale face fell into a violent mood, his scarlet eyes were bloodshot, and the blood-like light flashed in the snake's eyes. Voldemort was his most ardent admirer. Used the mind of pantheon.

A blank, a blank sheet of paper.

Voldemort's ten pale fingers were tightly twisted together in an instant, making a sound of knuckles.

"Very good." He murmured to himself, no one knew what kind of emotion he was in.

She is still alive, but she is dead

With a low sigh, Voldemort waved his wand lightly, and the weird green light flashed across the cell.

The woman sitting in the seat was hit without the slightest resistance. She leaned back, hit the wall, and slid weakly.

The woman died, this time in any sense.

But this may actually be a relief for her.

"Voldemort will avenge you and make them pay the price they deserve." The man said frantically, as if the whole castle began to tremble with fear because of his anger.

Azkaban.

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