"How could I know the evil you did back then? You have to know that there is an old saying that if you don't want others to know, you have to do nothing yourself."
"Kill him!"
The moment Rolf finished speaking, Peter Pettigrew and Nagini attacked him at the same time under Voldemort's order. But neither Pettigrew's death curse nor Nagini's bloody mouth could do anything.
Hit him.
Instead, he limped and kicked Pettigrew in the fat belly, kicking him out and interrupting the second spell he was chanting.
After Nagini missed the target, he quickly turned around and bit him again, but Rove stuffed the crutch in his hand into his mouth. While taking a bite of wood, he was hit with a stick on the head.
After being hit with a stick by Rove, Nagini's vision went dark and she lay motionless on the ground. However, Rove knew that it just fainted because he did not kill her. As for Peter Pettigrew, Rolf kicked him and vomited out all the food he had eaten the night before. Therefore, he could not recite or use spells until he vomited all the food in his mouth.
And then the wand in his hand flew out and fell into Rolf's hand. Then the wand shot a stun spell and hit him, and then he completely lost consciousness.
After Nagini and Peter Pettigrew were subdued, Voldemort looked at the suspicious old Muggle man walking towards him with a smile while throwing his wand, and he opened his mouth and cried.
"What the hell?!"
Obviously, this move was not expected by Rove. Even if he had no bottom line, he would never attack a crying little guy again.
"You don't need to disguise yourself in this way. After all, even if you lose this body, you won't die, right?"
After Rolf said these words, Voldemort's crying stopped immediately, just like a duck suddenly being strangled by the neck during its quacking.
"What on earth are you?"
"It doesn't matter who I am, you just need to know that I'm here to help you."
"This is how you help me?"
"Isn't it the greatest help to you if I don't stop your plan to use Harry Potter's resurrection?"
"What if I say no?"
"Then I'm afraid you will have to continue to go to the forest to keep company with the wild beasts. I don't know if the next dwarf will come across the ocean to find you."
"Tell me, what do you want?"
"I want..."
When Rove said these words, Harry, hundreds of kilometers away, suddenly woke up from his dream. He lay straight up on his comfortable bed, breathing heavily, as if he had just recovered from a drowning state.
It’s like being separated from China.
He had just woken up from a very vivid dream, and he even felt that it was not a dream, but something that had really happened.
Because the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was burning with pain, as if someone was pressing a white-hot metal wire against his skin, burning him to the point of pain.
He slowly sat up from the bed, covering the scar with one hand, while the other hand fumbled in the dark to pick up the glasses he placed on the bedside table.
After putting on the glasses, the scenery in the bedroom slowly began to become clearer in his eyes. The light from the street lights outside the window penetrated through the curtains, casting a hazy orange-red soft light into the bedroom.
Harry gently stroked the scar with his fingers again. Although the pain here was still severe, he was not ready to continue sleeping. After reaching out to turn on the desk lamp next to him, he turned over and jumped out of bed, put on his slippers, crossed the room, and turned on
Wardrobe, looking towards the mirror inside the door.
A thin fourteen-year-old boy was looking at him in the mirror. Under his messy black hair was a pair of green eyes, full of confusion and pain.
He lifted up his black hair and got closer to the mirror, trying to look at the scar on his forehead more carefully in the mirror, but he still couldn't see anything abnormal, but the excruciating pain did not ease at all. p>
So he began to try his best to recall the scene in the dream just now. Everything was so vivid... There were two people he knew, and one he didn't know... He frowned, concentrated his thoughts, and tried his best to remember... Then a dim room vaguely appeared before his eyes... There was a snake lying on the carpet in front of the fireplace... A small man named Peter, nicknamed Wormtail... and a cold, sharp
The voice...that's Voldemort's voice.
When Harry thought of Voldemort, he felt like he was going to have stomach problems again, but he resisted this feeling and continued to recall the scene in his dream.
But under the influence of the pain of the scar, he found that he could no longer remember anything. After trying for a while, he finally chose to give up.
So he put his hands down from his face, opened his eyes and started to look around the bedroom. After the Dursleys closed their business deal and bought a new house, he also got a brand new bedroom.
This bedroom is much larger than the one he had before, and it is much more comfortable. Moreover, this is one of the high-end residential areas, and the environment is much better than Privet Drive.
However, he rarely goes out, so he doesn't make any new friends. He still spends most of his vacation in his room.
Thinking of this, he began to look at his new bedroom again. There was a large wooden box next to the foot of his bed, open, revealing a cauldron, a broomstick, a black robe and various spell books.
There is an empty large birdcage on his desk, and his white owl, Hedwig, the Snowy Owl, usually roosts in it. On the remaining space on the desk, there are a few rolls of parchment scattered randomly.
It's his unfinished homework.
There was an open book on the floor next to the bed. Harry read it before going to bed last night, and then he fell asleep while looking at the book. At this time, the pictures on the book were moving.
Stop, a young man wearing a bright orange-red robe is riding on a broomstick, flying around, throwing a red ball to each other. This is his favorite Quidditch sport.
He walked over, picked up the book, and watched a wizard in the picture in the book throw the ball into a fifty-foot-high ring, and won a point very beautifully.
Immediately, he slammed the book shut again. Although the Quidditch game seemed to Harry the most exciting sport in the world, it could not attract his attention at the moment.
He put the book called "Flying with the Artillery Team" on the bedside table, walked to the window, opened the curtains, and looked at the street below.