Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 857 - 228: Fury Like a Tidal Wave

The Death Eaters all silently watched Voldemort, then glanced at Harry, speculating about what mysterious power this child possessed.

After all, judging from the previous competition, he wasn’t much stronger than the other contestants... Of course, the courage to openly provoke the Dark Lord was indeed very rare.

However, in the eyes of the Death Eaters, this was not a remarkable power but rather the most foolish manifestation of this boy.

Voldemort seemed to sense their confusion, and he patiently explained:

"As I said before, I cannot touch him, nor can the servant I possessed..."

"Four years ago, Harry Potter was so weak that I could have killed him with a finger, but when we captured him, unimaginable pain tore our connection apart. I was forced to break away, and that servant died soon after."

He sighed, as if lamenting the death of that servant.

The chapel was silent, the Death Eaters shivering, their robes trembling rhythmically.

Harry attempted to seize the opportunity to attack several times, but the eyes fixed on him and Voldemort’s crimson gaze made him realize that he could not act recklessly; the longer he delayed, the better.

So he kept his mouth shut, saying nothing, only occasionally checking on Vid’s condition.

In a corner no one noticed, Clementine, lying on the ground, suddenly moved her fingers, a faint moan escaping her throat.

Behind a broken window in the chapel, an eye glowing green suddenly appeared.

It stared at Clementine for a moment, then its eyeball darted to Vid.

Just when everyone thought Voldemort was going to talk about his third failure, he suddenly raised his hand—

Harry instantly felt an irresistible force seize him; his feet lifted off the ground, and he was violently yanked forward.

He struggled desperately, but it was as if all the strength in his body had been drained; he couldn’t even raise his magic wand, forced to watch helplessly as that spider-like hand gripped his throat!

Voldemort extended a thin finger, the cold tip gently caressing the lightning-shaped scar on Harry’s forehead.

Harry trembled violently, the agony exploding from the scar, scorching through his nerves.

Voldemort chuckled lightly, moving his finger away.

To Harry, his voice sounded as if it came from a distant abyss:

"Look, I can touch you now, Harry Potter!"

He said triumphantly, "The weakness that once defeated me no longer exists. This...is why I had to use your blood to resurrect."

"—Your mother’s blood left on you will now exist in my veins, helping me become stronger, more perfect than before!"

Voldemort flung his arm, and Harry fell to the ground with a thud. Clutching his forehead, he remained too weak to get up, his limbs trembling uncontrollably.

Voldemort paced in front of him:

"Look at yourself, Harry Potter... powerless, weak, foolish... What do you have left in front of me after losing your mother’s protection?"

He suddenly kicked out, sending Harry rolling several times on the ground. Unable to suppress a groan of pain, Voldemort became even more pleased, and the Death Eaters laughed uproariously.

Voldemort turned to the others and said, "I think you can see how foolish it was to think this boy is stronger than me; he only escaped from my grasp by sheer luck."

"Now I can confirm... my third failure had nothing to do with you, Harry Potter."

Voldemort’s face darkened significantly, and he whispered hoarsely:

"That time, on the night of the Quidditch World Cup, my foolish servant was deceived by someone posing as Harry Potter, mistaking them for my intended target, and brought them to my temporary hiding place."

Barty Crouch Jr hung his head deeply, wishing he could die to cleanse the shame of being used by the enemy twice.

His voice was rasping like scraping sandpaper, filled with intense hatred and fury.

"While I was extremely weak, that person, bearing Harry Potter’s guise, once again... killed me... by means of an ambush!"

Voldemort suddenly waved his hand, and Harry, who was struggling to stand, fell out immediately. He strode toward Vid, tearing off the badge on the boy’s chest under his wide-eyed stare.

Voldemort looked at the robin, his pale face enlarging grotesquely on camera, a cold smirk tugging at his lips:

"Dumbledore, the world sings of your greatness. But do those who worship you know what a despicable, shameless man you really are?"

"Hiding behind your students, allowing a boy not yet of age to bear my hatred, then seizing the chance to ambush!"

"Back when you defeated Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald, was it the same way?"

—In truth, Voldemort wasn’t sure of the identity of the person who ambushed him that night, but he had long locked onto a suspect in his heart, regardless of evidence.

Even if it wasn’t Dumbledore, it surely involved someone associated with him!

Far away at Hogwarts, Dumbledore: "..."

The gaze of everyone around seemed to pierce him intensely, as if even the terror induced by the enlarged snake face on screen could be ignored.

But in the audience, another person not only failed to find it amusing but instead gripped the armrest tightly, pale fingers bulging with veins, cold anger igniting in his pupils, as if about to incinerate everyone.

The air suddenly thickened.

An intangible pressure gripped the hearts of the audience, causing them to hold their breath without realizing it, blood vessels pulsating heavily.

No one knew where this fear originated from, but it silently crept up everyone’s spine, making their hair stand on end.

Those glancing at Dumbledore shifted their gaze away, even Madam Maxime and other heads of Magic Schools, or the ministers of various Ministry of Magic departments, all appearing especially quiet and composed, wearing expressions that said "I do not believe Voldemort’s nonsense at all."

Fudge, who had just been revived a few minutes before, suddenly found it hard to breathe, feeling like he might faint again.

He clutched tightly at his chest, gesturing for Percy to step forward, then lowered his voice, speaking with difficulty:

"That person is back, by Merlin above... How can someone as incompetent as me continue to sit in the minister’s office?"

Percy’s back straightened sharply, even forgetting the Dark Lord’s threat at that moment, his eyes fixed on Fudge, Adam’s apple rolling difficultly.

"Minister, you... you mean..."