Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 406 Voldemort: The World Cup Finals? I will bring it destruction and death!

The liquid in the pool began to boil like boiling water, and a foul stench permeated the cave, almost suffocating people.

Taurus truly lives up to his reputation as an elite member of the secret society, calmly and methodically preparing the potion in front of him even in such a harsh environment.

"Add what you mentioned earlier," Voldemort's voice came from the pool.

"Have you thought this through?" Taurus narrowed his eyes. "If the fusion fails, you'll either die or go insane."

"Go ahead and release him; death can't harm the great Voldemort."

Seeing how confident the guy in front of him was, Taurus didn't stop him and directly brought out the divine remains that the organization had prepared for Voldemort.

These divine remains come from four deities: Jormungandr, the World Serpent; Fenrir, the World Destroyer Wolf; Hela, the Goddess of Death; and Nidhogg, the Ultimate Black Dragon.

In ancient prophecies, they were the culprits of Ragnarok. But when Ragnarok actually arrived, this prophecy seemed less accurate...

The remains of these four deities were a "set" that the secret society had spent a great deal of effort searching for. However, due to the intense resentment and killing intent within them, no one could withstand their power.

Now that it's being used by Voldemort, I don't feel bad about wasting it.

For the Secret Order, it would be ideal if Voldemort could successfully fuse with the remains of the four gods, gaining a powerful ally. Even if the fusion failed, the crippled Voldemort could be put to good use, and some of the resentment within the remains could be absorbed; either way, they would benefit.

"Put out the remains of Jormungandr first; I love snakes the most," Voldemort commanded from the bottom of the pool.

Taurus's face turned ashen as he kept telling himself: Don't get angry with a dead person, it's not worth it, it's unnecessary!

He lined up the four boxes on the ground, then took out three small bags and casually placed them next to the boxes.

After waiting a moment, when he saw the surface of the pool begin to shimmer like diamonds, Taurus knew the time had come. He picked up the first small package and tossed it into the pool.

"Your father's bones, donated unintentionally, can give your son a second life!" Taurus's cold, hard voice rang out in the filthy cave. Accompanying this, the diamond-like water on the surface of the pool burst open, and blue liquid splashed everywhere, hissing as it fell onto the cave walls.

According to the usual procedure, Taurus would then add "the flesh of servants" and "the blood of enemies," but the Secret Order modified Voldemort's resurrection process, adding the remains of four gods to it.

Taurus opened the first box and took out a huge bone fragment from the box, which was enchanted with a traceless extension spell. This fragment alone was half the height of a person.

"The bones of the mortal serpent grant you an insatiable desire to devour, until the very end of the world."

The moment the bone was thrown into the pool, a roar seemed to transcend time, echoing throughout the cave.

The single roar sent a chill down Taurus's spine. Trembling with fear, he tossed the second small package into the pool after the bone fragments sank to the bottom.

"The flesh of your servant, if donated voluntarily, can bring your master back to life."

The flesh thrown into the pool was certainly not Taurus's flesh; it was what he had cut off Bellatrix's body in Azkaban. He was neither Voldemort's servant nor would he voluntarily donate his own flesh, so he couldn't possibly meet the requirements of the resurrection ritual.

After throwing Bella's flesh in, Taurus opened two boxes in succession. One box contained a piece of rotten flesh, and the other contained a tuft of dark hair.

"The flesh of the Goddess of Death grants you authority over the underworld; the fur of the World-Destroying Wolf allows you to devour heaven and earth."

After the remains of the two deities were added, the surface of the pool returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.

Looking at the calm surface of the pool, Taurus felt a sense of unease. He vaguely sensed that something dangerous was brewing beneath the surface.

Taurus even felt the urge to abandon everything and escape the cave. But that was impossible; everything he had was given to him by the Secret Order, and he could not betray the organization's plans.

He forced down his unease and continued adding the blood of his enemy. It was the easiest thing to obtain; he could just grab any wizard in Diagon Alley and have a vial of their blood drawn. After all, wizards who had no grudge against Voldemort were few and far between.

However, Taurus didn't take it lightly; this vial of blood was carefully selected. The blood belonged to Neville Longbottom.

After the blood entered the pool, the delicate balance seemed to be broken, and the pool boiled again, with diamond-like sparks flying everywhere, instantly creating huge bubbles when they landed on a person.

Despite the excruciating pain, Taurus opened the last box and poured in the blood of the ultimate black dragon, Nidhogg.

The dragon blood completely ignited the pool water, and the liquid that gushed out like a volcanic eruption swept Taurus into it. This powerful cultivator from the secret society only let out a muffled groan before disappearing without a trace, not even having time to deploy his own domain.

After a long time, the noise inside the cave gradually subsided. Aries, who had been driven out of the cave by Taurus before the ceremony began, carefully returned to the cave.

The landscape inside the cave had completely changed, and Aries almost got lost, but she eventually arrived at the pool.

At this moment, the pool was filled with a liquid as black as ink, and everything fell into an eerie calm. Taurus had also disappeared without a trace.

Aries mustered her courage and waited by the pool for a while. Just as she was about to return to headquarters to report, things finally changed.

The ink in the pool gradually faded. After some time, Aries discovered Voldemort curled up at the bottom of the pool. Like an infant, he continuously absorbed the pool water into his body and then expelled the filtered water.

Between each intake and exhaust, the color of the pool water gradually faded.

When the pool water became crystal clear, Voldemort opened his eyes.

With a splash, he emerged naked from the pool. He was tall and thin, looking like a skeleton.

"I have never been so powerful, I am now invincible... Dress me!" A cold, sharp voice rang in Aries' ears.

Aries, who is naturally highly compatible with the divine, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and has had a smooth and successful life. She has never had to serve anyone before. So she was enraged by Voldemort's orders.

But when she looked up and met Voldemort's eyes, she chickened out.

It had a pair of bright red eyes with vertical pupils and a bright orange hue inside, just like a snake's. There wasn't a trace of human emotion, not even negative feelings like resentment.

Voldemort's appearance also changed drastically.

Aries had seen Voldemort's appearance before; he was a handsome young man. That was the appearance of the soul fragment in the Horcrux, Voldemort's appearance when the Horcrux was made.

But now he's practically a monster!

He was extremely tall, yet emaciated, with skin as white as paper, covered in a layer of long, grayish-black hair. If Voldemort's upper body still resembled a human, his lower body was more like a rotting corpse! The flesh below his waist was decayed and blackened, faintly emitting the stench of a dead man. His body still retained a human form, but his head had lost even that.

His red eyes and orange snake pupils go without saying. Voldemort's nose became as flat as a snake's, with only two thin slits left in his nostrils. His bald head was covered with scale-like skin, and his temples bulged high, like dragon horns.

Startled, Aries lowered his head and fetched a wizard's robe for Voldemort, putting it on him.

"Food, I need to eat." After getting dressed, Voldemort continued to give orders.

Aries was taken aback, then immediately retrieved their food supplies.

Voldemort sat down cross-legged, took the food from Aries's hand without any regard for his image, and began to eat heartily without even heating it up.

Voldemort ate incredibly fast, tossing food into his mouth, chewing it a couple of times, and swallowing it whole. He seemed to have transformed into a snake, eating without ever needing to chew.

At first, he ate normal foods such as bread, cheese, sausage, and fruit. Later, he started putting flour, dried meat, and eggs directly into his mouth.

His originally bony ribs began to bulge at an alarming rate, making it look as if a ball had been stuffed into his chest.

After quickly wiping out the quartet's food supplies, Voldemort glanced at Aries. His eyes were filled with lust, exactly like a predator eyeing its plump prey.

Aries was terrified.

For a fleeting moment, she felt as if Voldemort would pounce on her, tear her robes apart, and devour her whole. She vaguely guessed the whereabouts of Taurus.

However, Voldemort ultimately suppressed his inner desires—if he killed the woman before him, his connection with the Secret Order would be severed.

Although it wouldn't be difficult for the Secret Society to find him, he would probably have to spend a lot of time explaining himself, and he didn't want to waste his time on that.

"That Taurus guy seemed to have mentioned that the British Ministry of Magic is hosting the Quidditch World Cup this year?"

Aries nodded.

"How long until the final begins?"

"Less than a month."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes: The World Cup finals mean there will be a huge number of people gathered there.

He laughed; it was time to give the British magical world a little shock.

Let this World Cup be the stage for my resurrection and return!

"I will bring destruction and death! Are you ready? Albus Dumbledore, and—Harry Potter!" Voldemort laughed maniacally, and thick, inky shadows spread from beneath his feet, gradually filling the entire cave…

……

"Ah!!!" Harry suddenly sat up in bed, a sharp, tearing pain shooting through his forehead.

His scars were burning.

A full minute passed before Harry recovered from the excruciating pain, reached out with trembling hands, found the glasses on the bedside table, and put them on the bridge of his nose.

Even with his glasses on, Harry still saw double; the intense pain felt like his head was being sawed open, and sweat soaked through his pajamas.

With a loud "snap," an extremely old elf appeared in front of Harry's bed.

"Young Master Potter, would you like Kreacher's services?" it asked in a low, hoarse voice. Kreacher bowed deeply to Harry, his ugly nose shoving directly into the floor. As he bowed, he whispered in what he thought only he could hear, "You bastard brought into the house by a spendthrift, defiling the sacred Black family home..."

When they first moved in, Harry would get angry at Kreacher for his "whispers," but now he's used to it.

After a month together, he had grown accustomed to Kreacher's madness. He knew that the poor house-elf was simply senile and had been indoctrinated with too many wrong ideas.

Of course, getting used to something doesn't mean not disliking it. He simply waved his hand, signaling Kreacher to leave his bedroom.

Honestly, Kreacher's presence made Harry even more uncomfortable; he always had the feeling that he was being watched by this house-elf.

Harry's intuition was correct; Kreacher had indeed been keeping an eye on this uninvited guest who had "intruded" into Black's ancestral home.

Kreacher left grumbling, while Harry was wide awake.

He regretted not asking Rice for some calming potion before leaving school.

He lay on the soft bed, staring blankly at the exquisite crystal chandelier on the ceiling. As time passed, his scars didn't hurt as much anymore.

"How long have I been here?" Harry suddenly wondered. He did the math and realized it had been about a month.

This was the happiest time of his life—not counting his time at Hogwarts.

A spacious bedroom, a clean and comfortable bed, meals to eat as much as he wanted, and most importantly, no Uncle Vernon's yelling and scolding. Harry had never even dreamed of such a life before.

Recalling the happy life he had experienced over the past month, Harry's mood gradually calmed down. Slowly, drowsiness returned, and he drifted off to sleep again.

The next morning, Harry met Sirius at the restaurant.

He was reading today's edition of the Daily Prophet.

"You're awake? Breakfast will be ready soon. Would you like some tea? Coffee will do too." Sirius was momentarily disoriented when he suddenly saw Harry sitting across from him, experiencing a fleeting hallucination: Harry looked so much like his father that it confused his memory, making him think that James had arrived.

Harry poured himself a cup of hot tea.

After hesitating for a moment, Harry told Sirius about the strange change in his scar.

Sirius tossed the newspaper aside and frowned.

"I'll write to Dumbledore and ask him."

"No—" Harry suddenly raised his hand, and seeing Sirius looking at him with a questioning gaze, he quickly explained, "Dumbledore is very busy..."

"This is no ordinary matter." Sirius didn't have as many concerns as Harry. He felt that Dumbledore's "jobs" were of lower priority than the mutation of Harry's scar.

Harry: ...

"Don't think about those things." Seeing Harry's low spirits, Sirius changed the subject: "I remember you made plans with the Weasleys to go to the Quidditch World Cup?"

Weasley Quidditch finally piqued Harry's interest.

"Yes!" Harry said excitedly.

He will be going to the humble abode in a few days.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Update delivered, goodnight~

(End of this chapter)