Chapter 358 The Resurrection Ceremony is Ready
It was early morning, the Quidditch field was illuminated by golden light, and the wind swept down from the stands, bringing with it the chill of early winter.
"He's really not coming?" Harry sat on the broom, panting, leaning on the handle with one hand, and complained to Amanda, "Say something like 'there are other plans'... He's really good at avoiding things."
"I asked him." Amanta adjusted the buckle of her wristband. "He said flying is not his forte, so he has prepared other tactics." Her eyes were calm and she did not comment much, but her tone clearly revealed a hint of displeasure.
"He's always so secretive." Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe he's hiding in a corner of a library, tinkering with the Dark Arts."
"Whatever he does." Harry suddenly sat on Nimbus 2001, "Today the three of us will continue the training."
They leaped up together and had just completed a set of cross turns in the air when they heard some unfriendly laughter from the other end of the court.
"Look, the kids from Hogwarts are practicing flying."
"Look at that blond guy, is he the Malfoy kid?"
"Poor Hogwarts, sending a few fourth-year kids to be warriors."
Four Durmstrang wizards dressed in crimson and black robes walked into the stadium. They were tall and had a rebellious temperament. Mikhailov leaned on his broom arrogantly and spoke loudly, deliberately for them to hear.
Harry's face darkened and he was about to step forward to retort, but Amanta put out her hand to stop him.
"Don't waste your energy. Their words are never worth arguing about."
"But you have to admit that they deserve a beating." Draco sneered and glanced at the three people in front of him who were laughing, "Especially the one with a nose that's as upturned as a fire dragon."
At this time, Krum, who was standing in the back, said in a deep voice: "That's enough, Mikhailov."
Mikhailov curled his lips and said nothing, but his face was still full of mockery.
Krum took a few steps closer and nodded to the three of them.
"I didn't expect you guys to come for training." His voice was not loud, with a heavy accent, but it lacked the aggressiveness of his companions. "Hoffman didn't come?"
"He has other plans." Amanta responded appropriately, "Thank you for your concern."
"...Good luck to you." Krum nodded slightly and turned back to his team.
"At least this guy doesn't look annoying," Harry muttered, "but those guys really want me to beat them up."
"Winning the game is more important than winning the argument." Amanta said calmly, his eyes already looking towards the other side of the court.
The four Durmstrang men had already taken off, executing complex pursuit tactics and speed-changing maneuvers in the air with smooth and sharp movements.
"They worked well together," Draco commented softly, "unlike us, who just bumped into each other."
"But they also have flaws." Amanta glanced at them, "Valtor's reaction speed is not fast enough, and Mikhailov is too proud. Once he is restrained, he will easily become irritable... As long as we cooperate well, we will not be inferior."
Harry took a breath, "Let's practice tacit understanding and position-changing support movements today. You command and we coordinate."
Draco glanced at him and rarely argued.
"Okay, whoever doesn't follow orders today is a slug."
"You are."
"Shut up, Harry."
"Just shut up, Draco."
Amanta glanced at them with a headache, "We agreed not to quarrel."
The two of them then said in unison: "Understood!"
Then three figures soared into the sky, leaving clean and neat tracks under the sunlight.
*
It was late at night. Julius made no sound as he walked through the west porch of the school library, his footsteps lighter than those of a cat.
He was wearing a black robe, his fingertips stroking the crystal bottle hidden in his sleeves, his thin lips slightly raised, as if he was savoring the pleasure of some success.
He didn't go to practice on the Quidditch pitch today. He didn't need to.
That was not the way he fought.
He stood at the stone railing at the end of the tower and saw the figures of Amanta, Harry and Draco flying in the air. Their coordination was not mature enough, but they had an almost stubborn persistence.
"...silly and romantic." He murmured, with a hint of fluctuation in his eyes.
His eyes fell on the figure with light blond hair, and remained motionless for a long time.
The breeze blew up his wide robes, as if whispering for him. He had been calculating, and she must have known he couldn't be trusted, but she still wrote her name on the parchment that night and handed it to him.
She was willing to gamble - he would win.
But this time, he wasn't doing it for the glory of the Goblet of Fire. He was doing it for something that was truly important.
Julius turned around and took out an old book with a blurred cover from his inner robe. The edges of the pages were covered with dark red symbols. He whispered a spell and touched the stone platform with his palm. A brick bounced up with a "snap", revealing a gray-white crow bone box.
He took out two things:
A silver badge - the ancient emblem of the House of Gaunt.
A wrinkled sheepskin map with a totem drawn in human blood in the center.
"The resurrection ceremony requires the 'Three-person Seal'." He turned a page of the ancient book and ran his fingertips over the recorded steps of the ceremony, "'Bones of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy'..."
He laughed softly, his voice like an echo from under some dark clouds.
"The flesh of the servant is ready, the bones of the father have been found - all that is missing is you, Potter."
He put the badge into his personal secret box and turned away into the shadows.
Tomorrow is the Hogsmeade weekend. But no one knows that tonight, he will appear in another place.
*
Midnight, in Hogsmeade village, in the cellar of the stone house behind the dry well.
The strong candlelight illuminated a circle of black-robed figures. Peter Petillo was the first to say, "Has Julius, the loyal servant of my Lord, returned?"
"he came."
Julius walked slowly into the room and stood in the center. The black-robed Death Eaters bowed their heads slightly towards him, not daring to get too close.
"You said that you could send Potter, Malfoy and Merlin to that grave together." A gloomy and distorted voice sounded. It was Voldemort's voice, rolling out from the shadows.
Julius bowed his head, as if in submission.
"I promise. They will go all the way - to the resurrection ritual you set up. Amanta Merlyn's blood will unlock the power of the seal, Potter's blood will bring you back to life, and Malfoy..."
He smiled, the meaning was unclear, "It's a bounty for the Death Eaters as traitors."
There was a low chuckle from the Death Eaters.
Voldemort was silent for a moment, and his voice suddenly became hoarse and harsh: "I hope you... won't let me down."
Julius bowed his head, his voice gentle as a prayer.
"Of course not. I'm just your pawn."
The corners of his mouth curled up, but his eyes were dead silent.
[You are just a remnant soul. You are only fit to live in the flesh and blood of others.]
[And I will truly be resurrected. Not to become you. ]
When the night fell completely silent, the moonlight was covering Hogwarts when he returned from Hogsmeade.
Standing under the astronomical tower, he looked up at the cold moon in the sky and suddenly murmured:
"Amanta, if you stand by me, maybe I won't just be doing this for myself."
The wind blew through his cloak, but he stood there for a long time, not moving.