Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 375 occurred
When Harry was dragged by the hurricane to the center of the maze, this was the scene he saw—

Tiera stood there, his right hand resting on the bone sword embedded in the ground, his left hand holding a huge horn. His simple competition uniform was stained brown with blood, and there was a deep wound on his right side that exposed the bone. The brilliance of the Triwizard Tournament trophy emanated from behind him like a pair of wings.

Tierra just stood there, smiling at Harry, just smiling at Harry.

The fierce hurricane pushed Harry in front of Tyella.

Tyrell released the sword in her right hand, tossed aside the horn in her left, and took Harry's hand.

"Tiera, you—" Harry looked at the congealed blood on Tiera's chest in a panic, and asked anxiously and worriedly, "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing, just a minor injury," Tiera said with a smile.

His smile was hidden in the gleam of the trophy, hidden in the shadow of glory; he just smiled like that, smiling as he took Harry's hand—

“Come on, Harry, come on.” Tierra’s voice was calm and serene. “Come with me, Harry, come with me, let’s lift the trophy together.”

"This is our honor, this is truly our honor, the honor of both of us. Think about it, Harry, think about it, this is double the honor of Hogwarts, double the honor of Gryffindor!"

"Double the glory?" Harry stared at Tierra, his eyes fixed on Tierra's face stained with dried blood and his eyes that shone with an eerie light.

"Great!" Harry laughed happily, squeezing Tyella's hand tightly. "Great! Double the glory! Come on, Tyella, let's go get double the glory!"

The two men each held their hands above the gleaming handle of the trophy.

"Shall we count to three?" Harry asked cheerfully. "One—two—three—"

He and Tierra each grabbed one of the handles of the trophy at the same time.

Harry suddenly felt a tug behind his navel—

His legs left the ground, but he couldn't let go of the Triple Cup, which dragged him forward amidst the howling wind and swirling colors, with Tierra beside him.

Harry felt his feet hit the ground, his injured leg buckled, and he fell to the ground, finally letting go of the Triple Cup.

He looked up and found himself surrounded by complete darkness.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, instinctively looking towards Tyella, but Harry found—

Tierra had already stood up, standing there stiffly and rigidly like a block of wood, his expression gone—

The light in his eyes also disappeared.

Tiera's eyes were vacant, blank, and she stared straight ahead.

It was as if, in an instant, all the spiritual energy in Tiera's body had vanished.

Harry shook Tyella while looking around—

They were now completely outside Hogwarts grounds; they had clearly flown several miles.

It may be several hundred miles away, because even the mountains surrounding the castle have disappeared.

They stood in a dark, overgrown cemetery, where they could see the black outline of a small chapel behind a tall yew tree on the right, and a hill on the left, where Harry could make out a delicate old house.

"I've been here before!" Harry's breathing suddenly became rapid. "I've been here before! Tyella! Get back to the trophy, quick!"

Harry used all the strength he had ever mustered to pull Tyella over, but—

Tierra remained motionless, still standing in the same spot.

Suddenly, Harry's scar throbbed with intense pain. He had never felt such pain in his entire life.

Harry's wand slipped to the ground. He covered his face with his hands, bent his knees and fell to the ground. He couldn't see anything in front of him. His head felt like it was about to explode, as if someone was holding a branding iron and trying to split his head open.

Then, in the darkness, a figure walked step by step towards them among the graves. Harry couldn't see the person's face, but from the gait and the posture of their arms, it seemed the person was carrying something. They were short, wearing a hooded cloak that obscured their face. Taking a few more steps closer—the distance between them was constantly shrinking—Harry realized the person was carrying what looked like a baby—

Or is it just a bag of clothes?
"Put another Imperius Curse on that Mudblood!" Harry heard a loud, cold command from far above.

"Out-of-body experience!"

—So that's how it is, so that's how it is.

Amidst the intense pain, Harry realized that Tyrell had been afflicted with the Imperius Curse.

After reciting the spell, the short, cloaked man put down his bundle, lit his wand, and began dragging Harry toward the marble tombstone. Before being shoved and his back slammed against the tombstone, Harry saw a name in the flashing light of the wand.

Tom Riddle

The cloaked man waved his wand and magically conjured ropes that tightly bound Harry to the tombstone, binding him from neck to ankle.

Harry heard rapid, shallow breathing coming from inside the hood.

He struggled, and the man hit him.

The hand that hit him was missing a finger. Harry knew who was inside the hood: Wormtail.

"It's you!" Harry exclaimed, both surprised and furious.

But the insect's tail did not answer.

He had finished tying the rope and was busy checking how tight it was.

His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he fumbled for the knots. Once he was sure Harry was bound tightly and unable to move, Wormtail pulled a black object from his cloak and roughly shoved it into Harry's mouth.

Then, without saying a word, he hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone. He couldn't turn to look behind the tombstone; he could only see what was directly in front of him—

But Harry tried hard to turn his head to the side, struggled to wriggle his tightly bound body, and tried to move to the side—

Because Tierra was there, because Tierra was standing next to the tombstone where Harry was tied up—

Harry tried hard to get closer to Tierra, Harry tried hard to be as close to Tierra as possible.

He must be terrified right now—

Harry thought to himself, "Tierra must be terrified."

Harry was so anxious he was almost in tears. But out of Harry's sight, in the shadow of the tombstone, Tyrell was no longer standing so straight, and was observing with great interest everything that was happening in the center of the cemetery.

Just then, Harry heard a sound at his feet. Looking down, he saw a large snake slithering through the grass, circling around his tombstone.

Wormtail began to pant again, as if he were pushing something heavy. Then he came into Harry's view and shoved a stone cauldron under the grave.

The crucible appeared to be filled with water.

Harry heard the splashing sound. This cauldron was larger than any he had ever used; it could fit an adult sitting inside.

The things in the bundle on the ground began to move more vigorously, as if trying to break free. Insect Tail busied itself tracing patterns on the bottom of the cauldron with its wand. Suddenly, crackling flames leaped up from beneath the cauldron.

The giant snake swam into the darkness.

The liquid in the crucible seemed to heat up very quickly. Not only did the surface begin to boil, but sparks also flew out, as if it were on fire. The steam grew thicker and thicker, blurring the silhouette of the insect's tail that was tending the flames.

The bundle moved even faster, and Harry heard that sharp, cold voice again.

"quick!"

The entire surface of the water is now sparkling with sparks, as if it were studded with diamonds.

"It's ready, Master."

“Now…” the cold voice said.

The insect's tail tore open the bundle on the ground, revealing what was inside.

Harry let out a scream, but it was muffled by the gag in his mouth.

It was as if an insect's tail suddenly flipped open a rock, revealing a slimy, eyeless, ugly thing—

No, it was far more terrifying, a hundred times more terrifying. The thing Wormtail brought resembled a curled-up baby, but Harry had never seen anything less than a baby. It had no fur, its body seemed to be covered in scales, and its skin was a dark, reddish color, like wounded tender flesh. Its arms and legs were thin and soft, and its face—

No living child has a face like that—

It was a flat snake face with a pair of gleaming red eyes.

The creature seemed completely incapable of taking care of itself. It raised its thin arms and wrapped them around Wormtail's neck, which Wormtail held in its arms. At that moment, Wormtail's bib fell off, and Harry saw in the firelight a look of disgust on his pale, weak face.

Wormtail carried the thing to the edge of the cauldron, and for a moment Harry saw the splashing water on the surface of the potion illuminate the evil, flat face. Wormtail placed the thing into the cauldron, and with a hiss, it sank.

Harry heard the soft sound of its limp body hitting the bottom of the cauldron.

"Let it drown," Harry thought, his scar burning almost unbearably. "Please...let it drown..."

The insect's tail was speaking, its voice unusually calm.

He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky, "Your father's bones, donated unintentionally, can bring your son back to life!"

His pronunciation was clear and articulate.

The grave beneath Harry's feet cracked open, and to his horror, he saw a wisp of dust rise into the air at the call of the worm's tail, gently falling into the cauldron. The diamond-like surface of the liquid shattered, hissing and scattering sparks; the liquid turned a vivid red-blue, clearly poisonous.

Insect Tail then pulled out a long, thin, gleaming silver dagger from his cloak.

"The flesh and blood of your servants, given voluntarily, can bring your master back to life."

He extended his right hand—

It's the hand that's missing a finger, and it seems like it's wearing a glove.

At that moment, Harry seemed to see a red light running along Peter Pettigrew's arm and onto his hand, whether he was seeing things or not.

Then Peter Pettigrew gripped the dagger tightly in his left hand and swung it towards his right.

Harry only realized Wormtail's intentions at the last second. It was only then that he suddenly recalled the prophecy Tyrell had inadvertently revealed during his third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class—

He closed his eyes tightly, but he couldn't stop the scream that pierced the night sky from going straight into Harry's body, as if he too had been stabbed by a dagger.

Harry heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's painful gasps, followed by a disgusting thud as something was thrown into the cauldron.

Harry didn't want to look... but the potion turned fiery red, and a bright light shone into Harry's tightly closed eyes...

Wormtail was panting and groaning in pain. Harry only realized Wormtail was right in front of him when those painful breaths hit his face.

“The blood of your enemy… forced to be offered… can bring your enemy back to life.”

Harry couldn't stop it; he was bound too tightly... He struggled desperately, trying to break free of the ropes binding him, and through his slits he saw a gleaming silver dagger trembling in the sole hand of the bugtail.

He felt the dagger pierce his arm, and blood flowed down his torn sleeve.

Wormtail, still panting in pain, trembled as it pulled a small glass bottle from its pocket and placed it next to Harry's wound. A small amount of blood flowed into the bottle.

He staggered toward the cauldron, carrying Harry's blood, and poured it in. The liquid in the cauldron instantly turned a dazzling white. Wormtail, having completed his task, knelt beside the cauldron, his body slumped to the ground, clutching his bleeding, severed arm, panting and sobbing.

The crucible was about to boil, and diamond-like sparks flew in all directions, so bright and dazzling that everything around it turned the color of black velvet.

"I hope it's drowned," Harry thought, "and I hope it doesn't..."

Suddenly, the sparks on the cauldron went out. A plume of white steam rose from the cauldron, obscuring everything in front of Harry. He couldn't see the wormtail, only a white mist... It hadn't worked... It drowned... Please... Please let it die...

Then, through the white mist before him, he saw, chillingly, a man's black figure slowly rising from the crucible, tall and thin, like a skeleton.

"Dress me," the cold, shrill voice said from behind the steam.

Sobbing and groaning, Wormtail, still protecting his stump, hastily snatched up the bundle's black robe from the ground, rose, and with one hand pulled it over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, his eyes fixed on Harry… Harry saw the face that had haunted his nightmares for the past three years, paler than a skull, with large, bloodshot eyes, a flat nose like a snake's, and nostrils that were just two thin slits…

Voldemort is resurrected.

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(End of this chapter)