Chapter 707
Raging Fury
Chapter 707 Raging Fury
The Death Eaters all stared silently at Voldemort, then at Harry, wondering what strange power the boy possessed.
After all, judging from previous matches, he wasn't much stronger than the other contestants... Of course, his courage to challenge the Dark Lord to his face was truly rare.
However, in the eyes of the Death Eaters, this was not a remarkable power, but rather the most foolish thing the boy had ever done.
Voldemort seemed to sense everyone's confusion, and he patiently explained:
"As I said before, I cannot touch him, nor can I touch the servant I possess..."
"Four years ago, Harry Potter was so weak that I could have killed him with one finger, but when we grabbed him, unimaginable pain tore apart our bond. I was forced to break free, and the servant died soon after."
He sighed, as if lamenting the death of the servant.
The church was silent; the Death Eaters trembled, their robes quivering rhythmically.
Harry tried to launch a sneak attack several times, but the eyes watching him closely and Voldemort's scarlet gaze made him realize that he couldn't act rashly at this moment and that the longer he could delay, the better.
Therefore, he kept his mouth shut and didn't say a word, only glancing at Wade's condition from time to time.
In a corner unnoticed by anyone, Clementine, who was lying on the ground, suddenly twitched her fingers and let out a soft groan.
Behind a broken window of the church, a green-glowing eye suddenly appeared.
It stared at Clementine for a moment, then its eyes suddenly shifted to Wade.
Just when everyone thought Voldemort was about to announce his third failure, he suddenly raised his hand—
Harry instantly felt an irresistible force grab him, his feet left the ground, and he was violently pulled forward.
He struggled desperately, but all his strength seemed to have been drained away. He didn't even have the strength to lift his wand and could only watch helplessly as the spider-like hand gripped his neck!
Voldemort extended a withered finger, its cold tip gently stroking the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry trembled violently, and excruciating pain burst forth from the scar, burning through his entire body along his nerves.
Voldemort chuckled and moved his fingers away.
To Harry, his voice sounded like it came from a distant abyss:
"Look, I can finally meet you, Harry Potter!"
He said triumphantly, "The weakness that once defeated me no longer exists, which... is why I must be resurrected with your blood."
"—The blood your mother left in you will also be in my blood. You help me become stronger and more perfect than before!"
Voldemort swung his arm, and Harry fell to the ground with a thud. He clutched his forehead, still too weak to get up, his hands and feet trembling uncontrollably.
Voldemort paced in front of him:
“Look at yourself, Harry Potter… incompetent, weak, stupid… what do you have left before me after losing your mother’s protection?”
He suddenly kicked Harry, sending him rolling several times on the ground. The boy couldn't help but groan in pain, which only made Voldemort more smug, and the Death Eaters laughed loudly.
Voldemort turned to the others and said, “I think you have seen how foolish it is to think that this boy is stronger than me. He was only lucky to escape from me.”
“Now I’m certain… my third failure had absolutely nothing to do with you, Harry Potter.” Voldemort’s face darkened considerably, and he hissed:
"That night, during the Quidditch World Cup, my foolish servant was tricked by a guy who had turned into Harry Potter and mistakenly took him as my target, bringing him to where I was temporarily hiding."
Little Barty lowered his head deeply, wishing he could just die so that he could wash away the shame of being used by the enemy twice.
His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper being scraped, filled with intense hatred and anger.
"While I was extremely weak, that person, disguised as Harry Potter, once again... killed me... through a sneak attack!"
Voldemort suddenly waved his hand, and Harry, who was struggling to stand up, fell down. He strode towards Wade and, under the boy's wide-eyed gaze, ripped off the badge from his chest.
Voldemort stared at the robin, his pale face suddenly magnified in the camera's view, a cold smile creeping onto his lips:
"Dumbledore, the world sings your praises. But do those who worship you know that you are such a despicable and shameless fellow?"
"Hide behind your students, let those underage boys bear my hatred, and then launch a sneak attack!"
"You used the same method to defeat the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald back then, didn't you?"
—In fact, Voldemort was not sure who the person who attacked him that night was, but he had already locked onto a suspect in his mind, regardless of whether there was any evidence.
Even if it's not Dumbledore, it must be someone connected to him!
Dumbledore, far away at Hogwarts: "..."
The gazes of everyone around him seemed to be fixed on him, and even the terror emanating from the enlarged snake face on the screen could be ignored.
Meanwhile, in the audience, another person not only didn't find it funny, but instead gripped the armrest tightly, his pale knuckles bulging with veins, and his pupils ignited with a cold rage, as if he would burn everyone to ashes in the next second.
The air suddenly froze.
An invisible sense of oppression gripped the hearts of the audience, who unconsciously held their breath, their veins throbbing.
No one knows where this fear comes from, but it has crept silently up everyone's spine, making every hair on their body stand on end.
Those who had been secretly observing Dumbledore all looked away. Even Madam Maxim, the headmistress of the magic school, and the ministers of the magic ministries of various countries appeared unusually quiet and composed at this moment, with expressions that said, "I don't believe Voldemort's nonsense at all."
Just a few minutes after being revived, Fudge suddenly felt short of breath and thought he was about to faint again.
He clutched his shirt tightly, waved his hand behind him to signal Percy to come forward, and then said in a low, strained voice:
"That person is back, Merlin above... How can a mediocre person like me continue to sit in the minister's office?"
Percy's back stiffened abruptly, and for a moment he even forgot the Dark Lord's threat, his eyes fixed on Fudge, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
"Minister, you...you mean..."
(End of this chapter)