I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 318 Harry, who lacks martial ethics

He placed his long, pale index finger on Peter Pettigrew's arm.

Harry's forehead throbbed with pain once more, and Peter Pettigrew let out another wail. Voldemort removed his finger from Pettigrew's mark, and Harry saw that the mark had turned jet black.

Voldemort's face revealed a cruel and smug expression. He straightened up, raised his head, and scanned the dark graveyard.

"After sensing it, how many people will have the courage to return?" he murmured, his glowing red eyes fixed on the twinkling stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to avoid it at all costs?"

He began pacing back and forth in front of Harry and Peter Pettigrew, glancing occasionally at the graveyard. After about a minute, his gaze fell on Harry again, his snake-like face contorting into a cruel smile.

"Harry Potter, you're standing on my father's bones," Voldemort hissed softly. "He was a Muggle and a fool... just like your own mother. But they were both useful, weren't they? When you were little, your mother died protecting you... I killed my father, and you see how useful he is after he's gone..."

Voldemort didn't find Arthas's behavior shameful at all. Instead, he was proud of it, looking at Harry with a smug expression, as if he wanted Harry to praise how great and awesome he was.

"Oh right, I don't need to introduce myself. You should know who I am in this situation—and... I've heard your fame is just as high as mine..." Voldemort said to Harry in a sarcastic tone.

Harry's inner monologue: You fucking think I wanted this?

Then, perhaps feeling that simply venting wasn't enough, he waved his wand and pulled the stinky sock out of Harry's mouth. This caused Harry to vomit, turning into a Hogwarts-like spitting mess, spitting all over the floor. Voldemort dodged in disgust; thankfully, he was quick enough to avoid being sprayed by Harry.

Voldemort looked at Harry's disheveled appearance and chuckled again. He paced back and forth, scanning his surroundings. The snake was still slithering across the grass, as if playing some strange trick.

"See that house on the hillside, Potter? My father used to live there. My mother was a witch who lived in this village and fell in love with him. But when she revealed her identity, he abandoned her… My father didn't like magic…"

Voldemort continued recounting his parents' love story, completely oblivious to the disdain in Harry's eyes. His crimson eyes were filled with contempt for his Muggle father. "He left her and went back to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter."

"My mother died in childbirth, and I grew up in a Muggle orphanage... But I swore to find him... I took my revenge on him, the man who gave me the same name as him, Tom Riddle..."

"Ha, I'm starting to get a little sentimental," Voldemort rubbed his bald head, revealing a sinister smile. "Family matters always make people sentimental, don't they?"

"Well, there's something I don't quite understand, Mr. Voldemort," Harry said, feigning a cute expression.

Voldemort's interest was piqued. He had never imagined that Harry could speak to him so calmly, let alone ask a question. He looked at Harry with great interest, unusually showing him rare patience: "Tell me, our great savior, 'the boy who lived'?"

Harry blinked his emerald green eyes and asked with an adorable look, "Since your father is a Muggle and your mother is a pure-blood wizard, why do you still associate with those pure-blood wizards? Aren't they the ones who value bloodlines the most? Actually, you don't know, I also have related pressures. Even though my father is also a pure-blood, those pure-blood wizards at school looked down on me quite a bit."

Voldemort stared at him for a long time, failing to catch the sarcasm in Harry's words. Instead, he laughed heartily, his sinister smile sending a shiver down Harry's spine. After a moment of laughter, Voldemort looked at Harry and said, "These are not problems, Harry. As long as you treat them with sincerity, they will all consider you family, right, Wormtail?"

As he spoke, Voldemort glanced at Peter Pettigrew, who was still huddled at his feet, sobbing, with no pity in his eyes.

"Yes...yes...Master treats us like real family...treats us like family..." Peter Pettigrew replied in a muffled voice, "That's why we treat Master like family too..."

Harry couldn't help it and spat out another mouthful.

"Speaking of which, my real family is coming soon..." Voldemort opened his arms, as if to welcome them.

As he moved, the billowing black clouds in the sky also shifted, and plumes of black smoke fell to the ground—the Death Eaters' unique apparition technique. They were all wearing hoods and their faces were covered with special Old Eight-style masks. They walked over one by one, very slowly and cautiously, as if they couldn't believe their eyes.

After all, this old devil had been missing for thirteen years, and his sudden appearance in front of everyone was unbelievable to them.

Voldemort stood there silently waiting, when one of the Death Eaters knelt down first, crawled to Voldemort's feet, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master, Master..." he whispered.

The Death Eaters behind this one did the same, each one kneeling and crawling to Voldemort's side, kissing his smoky robes, then stepping aside, standing up, and silently forming a circle around old Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the convulsing, sobbing Wormtail lying on the ground. But there were gaps in the circle, as if waiting for others to join.

However, Voldemort seemed to no longer expect anyone to come. He looked around at the hooded faces, and although there was no wind, there seemed to be a slight rustling sound in the circle, as if the circle had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said calmly. "Thirteen years...thirteen years since our last gathering, yet you respond to my call as if it were yesterday...that is to say, we are still united under the Dark Mark! Is that so?"

He raised his狰狞 (zhengning, meaning ferocious or hideous) face, opening his two narrow, serpentine eyes. "I have to admit, I'm disappointed. None of you have tried to come looking for me!"

As he spoke, he reached out and made a removal gesture towards a Death Eater beside him. The Death Eater's mask was instantly removed, still emitting black smoke: "Crawb!"

Voldemort called out his name, and the Death Eater named Crabbe collapsed, exhausted. Voldemort then reached for the next Death Eater: "McNeil! Goyle!"

After calling out names and removing their masks, Voldemort surveyed the room, his face grim, and asked, "Where's Lucius? Lucius Malfoy, how dare he ignore my summons?"

Crabbe got up from the ground and stammered, "Lucius...Lucius, he..."

"Lucius has betrayed us! He's been bought off by that brat Louis Mountbatten and is now working for him!" Goyle immediately jumped up, adding fuel to the fire. "They're completely in cahoots, all in cahoots. Mountbatten's relationship with Dumbledore is also quite close. I suspect, Master, that Lucius Malfoy has utterly betrayed you and sided with Dumbledore..."

Harry realized when he heard their names that these two were probably Draco's henchmen, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, along with their fathers.

"We'll talk about him later." Voldemort's expression was uncertain; he didn't want to bring up the traitor on his big day, so he turned to Crabbe and Goyle: "And what about you two?"

"My master, as soon as I find a signal from you, or any rumors about your whereabouts..." Crabbe said quickly, but was interrupted by Voldemort.

"There was a signal, my cunning friend!" Voldemort's tone was hostile. "And it wasn't just a rumor!"

"I assure you, my master!" Goyle immediately seized the opportunity, "I have never abandoned our magic, and I will always remain loyal to you!"

Before Voldemort could speak, Harry, who was being supported from behind, chuckled and teased, "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Loyalty is not absolute, it's absolute disloyalty'?"

Upon hearing Harry's words, Voldemort's crimson vertical pupils gleamed with ill intent as he stared at Crabbe and Goyle, who were kneeling on the ground.

"I'm back, I'm back, Master..." Peter Pettigrew crawled to Voldemort's feet like a worm.

Voldemort glanced down at the cowering Peter Pettigrew and said disdainfully, "You came back...out of fear, not loyalty!"

Peter Pettigrew's expression shifted from disbelief to utter terror. He opened his mouth to retort, but Voldemort preemptively delivered his verdict: "However, given how useful you have been these past few months, helping me gain a physical body and a wormtail when I needed it most, Voldemort will never fail those who have helped him..."

As Voldemort spoke, he touched Peter Pettigrew's head and tugged at his hair. Then, with a flick of his wand, a shiny silver arm instantly grew from Peter Pettigrew's missing arm.

Peter Pettigrew looked at his new arm with ecstatic joy. The arm felt perfectly comfortable, just like his original hand, and he could stretch it out freely. He happily stood up, then knelt on the ground and kowtowed repeatedly, saying, "Thank you, Master, thank you, Master..."

Not content with just kowtowing, he began crawling over to kiss Voldemort's robes.

"No need for thanks, Wormtail." Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes, speaking meaningfully, "I hope your loyalty will not waver, do you understand, Wormtail?"

"No, my master... never!" Peter Pettigrew vowed.

Voldemort snorted and turned his gaze to Harry.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth about that night thirteen years ago? Do you want me to tell you what made me lose my magic?" Voldemort walked up to Harry and poked his cheek with his wand. "Do you want me to tell you?"

Harry changed his position. He was actually a bit tired of being tied up. He groaned a couple of times and found a more comfortable position, continuing to watch Voldemort—since he couldn't get down anytime soon, he wasn't in a hurry to break free.

"It was because of love." Voldemort flicked his wand and said dismissively, "You know, when that lovely Lily Potter gave her life to save her only son and gave him the utmost protection, I couldn't touch him—oh, poor Quirrell, just for touching him, he was reduced to dust..."

The Death Eaters watching all gasped, shocked by Lily Potter's methods—she was just a Mudblood, yet she had the ability to set a trap for the Dark Lord.

"That's an ancient magic, I should have foreseen it..." Voldemort's nonchalant attitude was as casual as mentioning the "Law on the Protection of Minors": "But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, things have changed now, I can touch you now, I can touch you now..."

As he spoke, Voldemort stretched out his withered and pale claws and pressed them onto Harry's scar.

A sharp pain shot through him, and Harry, in his Eyesight Potter form, let out a piercing scream. Voldemort, seeing Harry's agony, was overjoyed and joined in the scream. Harry didn't react at first, but when he realized what was happening, he involuntarily shouted, "It's one thing for me to scream in pain, but why are you yelling like that?"

Voldemort was taken aback by Harry's sharp retort.

He then released Harry, staring at him with bloodshot eyes, and said, "Didn't expect your few drops of blood to be so useful, did you, Harry?"

Harry took a couple of breaths and looked at him, saying, "Of course I know. Lewis said my blood is... oh right, the blood of a fourth-level enemy?"

"Blood of a fourth-degree enemy?" Voldemort chewed on the words, not understanding their meaning, but he didn't dwell on it. He turned and took a few steps, loosening the ropes binding Harry. He shouted, "Pick up your wand, Potter!"

Harry's glasses also fell off, and he began searching aimlessly on the ground—similar to Nobita, without his glasses he was practically blind.

"I said—pick it up! Pick up your wand, Potter!" Voldemort roared again.

"Wait a minute, I can't find my glasses!" Harry yelled back, startling Voldemort.

Harry quickly found his glasses and wand. Voldemort drew his wand, cackled twice, and asked loudly, "You should know how to duel, Harry, right? How do you duel at school? I've heard there's even a dueling club..."

"Expelliarmus!" Harry roared, now the Quidditch disobedient of the game—not Wood. He quickly threw out a spell, hiding two smaller evil curses behind it: Tarantella Dance and Teeth of a Big Stick.

(End of this chapter)