The Day of the Draw at Hogwarts

On the other side of the tent, Mr. Weasley bandaged Harry's wounds.

"It's just a simple cut, no magic remains..." Mr. Weasley gave Harry a simple check while bandaging.

It's interesting to say that many people present were injured, but what Mr. Weasley cared about most was not his children, but Harry, and his children took it for granted.

After all, that was Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived.

"But why do you need Harry's blood?" Charlie took care of his wounds at this time and repaired the torn shirt.

"Maybe it's for a curse or something. I heard from my colleagues that some curses require blood as a medium..." Bill was helping everyone analyze the possibilities.

"Well, there's something I don't know whether I should say." Harry remembered what the kidnapper said when he was taking blood. It feels a little scary to say it, but if you don't say it, you will be in trouble if you miss the real thing.

"Go ahead." Mr. Weasley handed Harry a cup of hot chocolate and looked at Harry with encouraging eyes.

"That's it..." Harry repeated what the mysterious man said when he took the blood.

"The blood of your enemy, if you are forced to give it, can make your enemy...resurrection?" Mr. Weasley said this sentence again, and his expression suddenly changed.

Who is Harry's enemy? Which of his enemies needs to be resurrected? The answer is already there.

Mystery man.

He is Harry's old enemy and is currently preparing for a comeback.

The smarter people nearby also guessed this possibility.

Mr. Weasley tried hard to stabilize his emotions, "That person is probably an accomplice of the marching group, but his efforts are destined to be in vain - maybe it can still come true in his dream."

The tense atmosphere around him suddenly dissipated a lot. Yes, this is the resurrection of a mysterious man. How can an ordinary wizard achieve this level of magic?

"I'll write back and ask Dumbledore to see if there are any curses that require blood as a medium. Don't worry, Harry, no one will hurt you." Mr. Weasley smiled.

Everyone felt relieved when they heard Dumbledore's name. Then everyone tacitly ignored this topic.

"Who is marching tonight?" Harry took a sip of hot chocolate and felt much better. Even his arms didn't hurt so much anymore.

"Death Eaters." Bill explained for Harry, "That is, followers of You-Know-Who."

"How is the Roberts family?" Hermione was more concerned about the condition of the victim's family than the strange behavior of the Death Eaters.

"It's not very good. It's very exciting for them tonight. It's difficult for them to forget about it. Their family may behave a little weird next." Mr. Weasley sighed with sympathy. said in a tone of voice.

Hermione took a swig of chocolate, "Will they get compensation?"

"Compensation?" Mr. Weasley was a little surprised. It seemed that he had never considered this angle. "The Ministry of Magic should not give compensation. There is no precedent for this."

After all, I still don't care, it's just a Muggle family. The Ministry of Magic doesn't want compensation and can come up with a thousand excuses.

Hermione and the Grangers fell into silence, taking swigs of the hot drinks in their hands.

Now the atmosphere in the tent, which had been slightly relaxed, became more tense. Even Delis closed his mouth and quietly used the teacup as the backdrop. Mr. Weasley stood up, exerting his authority as the head of the family, and shooed everyone back to their beds.

If you go to bed now, you can still sleep for a few hours before dawn, and when you wake up, you can take the door key home.

Harry climbed back into his bed, his head pounding. He tried hard to fall asleep, but he couldn't sleep all night. After he turned over in bed countless times, he finally fell asleep.

Harry had a very strange dream. In the dream, he seemed to have turned into a baby and was carried to a cemetery.

The man holding him seemed unprofessional and made him feel uncomfortable, but somehow Harry felt a sense of ecstasy deep inside him. He couldn't explain why, he just wanted to laugh out loud.

Finally, "Harry" stopped in front of a tall marble tombstone. He could vaguely see the name on the tombstone: Tom Riddle.

Harry felt "him" being placed on the ground, and now he saw clearly the face of the person holding "him".

It's Wormtail!

Harry was so shocked that he almost felt like he was waking up.

Wormtail dragged a stone cauldron as tall as a person from somewhere, and Harry felt a sense of excitement in his heart.

Wormtail squatted beside the crucible and drew with his wand, and finally a flame rose under the crucible. Generally speaking, it takes a long time to boil such a huge pot. But the pot was obviously not filled with water, but some kind of magic potion.

The liquid in the pot boiled very quickly, emitting large amounts of steam and countless sparks.

Harry felt "himself" being picked up by Wormtail, and then getting closer and closer to the cauldron.

"Wait, wait -" Harry himself panicked: This liquid looked very hot. Did Wormtail throw "himself" into it to torture and kill this little life? And what's even more weird is that Harry feels that he, or himself in the dream, is very happy. The two emotions of fear and excitement are intertwined, which is an extremely complex experience.

Sure enough, Wormtail threw himself in.

Gulu gulu...

Harry didn't feel the pain of being scalded to pieces by boiling water, nor did he feel the suffocation of being submerged in water. He seemed to have returned to the fetal stage, back to the warm amniotic fluid.

It was really comfortable, and Harry almost fell asleep, but he couldn't fall asleep because he was still awake in the dream, like an audience, a spectator.

Through a layer of liquid, Harry could still clearly hear Wormtail's voice outside.

"My father's bones, accidentally donated, can regenerate your son!"

A small wisp of something dark was thrown into the crucible.

“The flesh of your servant, a voluntary donation, may restore the life of your master.”

A hand missing one finger also fell in, and Harry wanted to take a breath. Peter Pettigrew is so cruel? Cut off his own hand directly? !

Across the water and late at night, Harry couldn't see clearly. If it was under bright light, he would find that the hand didn't seem as fresh as if it had just been cut off.

While Harry was in a daze, a wisp of blood merged into the liquid in the crucible.

Harry thought it was daylight.

Everything around him turned dazzling white, the liquid was rolling rapidly, and Harry felt itchy all over his body...

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Go to bed first, the second one will be later.