The Silent Witch of Hogwarts

Chapter 411 Another Nightmare

The cold night fell again, and Harry couldn't help but shiver—where was he?

He instinctively tried to look up and see his surroundings, but found that he couldn't control his gaze at all—was it happening again?

That nightmare?

Harry had been thinking that, but as "he" slightly raised his head, he was surprised to find that he was no longer in that somewhat cramped room.

It was an open space—or rather, a cemetery.

There was no one else in this cemetery; all he could see was darkness.

Where is this place?

"Riddle—are you ready?"

Just as Harry was pondering, he heard a slightly teasing call. He turned his head slightly and saw someone he had seen before—the young, handsome Tom Riddle.

He was standing behind him with great interest, while he himself seemed to be sitting on a stone platform.

"I've been preparing for this day for a long time."

A hoarse voice came from Harry's throat, the chilling sound carried far on the black wind, like the most ancient evil.

"Then I really thank you." Riddle said, waving his wand lightly. As he did so, Harry noticed a row of things placed not far from him, in a place that looked like an altar.

It was a bone, a finger, and a bottle of seemingly ordinary bright red blood.

"He did a very good job—we hardly wasted any effort." Riddle smiled slightly, then looked at the three things that floated in front of him and softly recited: "Father's bones—servant's flesh—and enemy's blood."

"Didn't Dumbledore discover all this?" the hoarse "Harry" asked again. Harry could sense "himself"...

There seemed to be a slight sense of joy.

"Perhaps, but he doesn't know the specifics." Riddle nodded slowly. "He hasn't discovered our two most loyal servants—"

Two servants?

Could it be referring to Sirius Black and that mysterious Death Eater?

Although Harry subconsciously still felt that everything before him was a dream—this dream was too real—too—too immersive.

Was this a dream? Or was it something that actually happened?

Harry wasn't sure either, because whenever he woke up, these memories would become jumbled—making it impossible to recall—only in his dreams could he clearly remember what had happened.

Perhaps I should go see Headmaster Dumbledore?

Just as Harry was thinking this, he saw Riddle slowly walking towards him with an elegant smile on his face. The way he seemed to have everything under control made Harry feel a little ridiculous—because he had once been beaten to a pulp by Professor Hamilton with that same expression—and even killed.

So—was he actually killed?

Before he could think, Harry was picked up and the three things floated in the air.

"Father's bone," Riddle said softly, waving his wand. The bone floated down and landed in the darkness of the altar.

As it disappeared, the altar emitted a strange sound that sent a chill down one's spine.

But this chilling voice only delighted "Harry," who let out a slightly eerie smile, and a bone-chilling cold rose in Harry's heart.

"Servant's flesh." Riddle spoke again, flicking his wand once more like a conductor at a concert. The finger slowly rose and then gently fell into the darkness.

"Pat-pat-pat"

A black mist rose up and instantly enveloped the surroundings.

“Next comes the last one—the blood of the enemy—that is—” Riddle raised an eyebrow: “Harry Potter’s blood.”

My blood?

Harry stared at the small bottle in surprise, momentarily wondering when he had given his blood to someone like that—or rather, he couldn't even remember the last time he had bled.

Where did this come from?

Is this really my blood?

A sense of absurdity suddenly arose, and this was not the end.

As the small bottle was unscrewed, a somewhat familiar scent slowly wafted out—it wasn't the simple, bloody smell of ordinary blood—but rather a somewhat familiar, somewhat...smelling scent.

Whose blood is this?

Before Harry could think about any of this, Riddle had already tilted the bottle slightly and poured out the blood.

"Tick-tock—tick-tock."

Not a single drop of blood remained; it all fell into the darkness—the chilling aura grew stronger and clearer, and they were definitely doing something terrible—something dangerous.

Riddle shifted slightly, and "Harry," whom he was holding, walked step by step toward the deep darkness, until they stopped together at the edge of the darkness.

"Isn't this the final step?" Riddle whispered. "Besides those three things—"

"That thing," he muttered, a smile spreading across his face. "That's me."

"A complete soul." He said, leaning forward, and as he leaned, he and "Harry" were immersed in darkness.

In an instant, Harry's senses were filled with darkness—but—this was no ordinary darkness, because he was not awake—in other words, he was clearly looking into the darkness with his eyes wide open.

Perhaps it was a moment, perhaps a very long time, or perhaps just the next minute, a faint silver light slowly appeared—and then, the surrounding darkness disappeared.

Harry felt his body suddenly become clearer, his vision brighten, and power—a continuous stream of power—was surging forth.

He raised his hand, and what came into view was not the originally slender hand, but a pair of adult hands, long, thin, and pale.

Dark red veins spread from fingertips to wrists, surging with an inexplicable power.

"It looks like it worked."

"Harry" said, his voice no longer hoarse or murmured, but magnetic, sounding exactly like Riddle's.

"Hahahahahahahahaha" He couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

He chuckled and shook his head, then bent down and picked up the wand from the ground.

With a flick of his staff, his figure was enveloped in darkness, and a few seconds later, he was draped in a black robe.

Harry lowered his head slightly and looked at a small, clear pond at his feet in the moonlight.

And reflected in the pool was none other than a face almost identical to Riddle's—except that this face looked more mature and more indifferent.

"Dumbledore — Harry Potter — Royla Hamilton —"

He uttered one name after another.

"Thank you so much for your indulgence and leniency—"

"I have everything I need now."

After that, there was only endless darkness.