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The moonlight tonight was unusually bright—a rare sight in a place known as Fog City. Yet, tonight truly felt like a good night to admire the moon.
Harry walked alone under the glowing moon, his face full of confusion. The moonlight here was indeed beautiful, but deep down, he only wanted to curse.
Before arriving here, he had been sound asleep in the dormitory. But then, he felt something poking at his face.
He opened his eyes reluctantly, only to find Noah holding a wand, staring at him with mischief in his eyes.
Besides Noah, Professor Snape stood there as well, his expression calm and unreadable. Harry turned to glance at his roommates and saw that they were all still fast asleep.
He tried to speak, but before a word could escape, he realized his body was no longer under his control.
His magic began to flow uncontrollably into a key that Noah handed him, making Harry's eyes widen in disbelief.
"Good luck, Harry."
"Damn it—I haven't even changed my clothes!"
But Harry didn't have time to finish shouting. In the blink of an eye, he was teleported to an extremely gloomy place.
Not only had he not changed clothes, but he was wearing nothing but his nightgown, barefoot, and worst of all—he didn't even have his wand!
This was a nightmare-level difficulty for him. Though his magical proficiency had improved significantly, he was still only a second-level wizard.
Without a wand, he couldn't cast spells. Now, he was completely confused and helpless.
Upon careful thought, Harry found it somewhat reasonable that he'd end up in a creepy place like this. Still, couldn't they have at least discussed it with him first? He brought nothing with him. What if he ran into someone who wanted to curse him? He'd be finished!
Trying to suppress his anxiety, Harry attempted to calm himself down—but the more he tried, the more agitated he became.
Calm down? Alone, in the dead of night, under an eerie moon, wandering through a creepy place like this? How could anyone possibly calm down?!
"Is anyone there? Where even is this place?!"
Harry wandered through what appeared to be a cemetery for nearly five minutes, still unable to find a single soul. At this point, he actually hoped to see a ghost.
After all his years in the wizarding world, Harry had gotten used to occasionally seeing things others couldn't. While it often unnerved him, right now he desperately hoped something—anything—would show itself.
At least then he could ask some questions and figure out what the hell was going on.
Still walking in silence, Harry suddenly got the unnerving feeling that someone was watching him.
He shivered. Glancing back repeatedly, he still saw nothing.
"What's going on...?" he muttered under his breath, becoming more cautious with every step.
"It's that boy. Looks like he really came here alone… no one else around."
A raspy female voice suddenly echoed through the air, making Harry's hair stand on end.
"Who's there?!"
He spun around, eyes darting through the fog—but still, no one in sight. Only the soft sliding of something against the ground broke the silence.
A chill ran down Harry's spine. He looked down—and sure enough, a fourteen-foot-long snake was slithering slowly toward him.
Harry froze in place. He could understand what the snake was saying, but its presence unnerved him to the core.
Whatever this thing was, it wasn't something Harry wanted to have a conversation with. He knew what tonight's ritual was about. A snake wasn't going to explain anything useful.
Fear and confusion were written all over Harry's face. And truthfully, he was terrified.
"Nagini says he's just a boy. Do it—now!" another, even hoarser and more menacing voice commanded.
Harry turned again—this time, someone had appeared in the fog.
He was tall and handsome, but with a wild, deranged expression that sent chills through Harry's blood. Worse, in his arms, he cradled a horrifyingly ugly, wrinkled baby.
"A banishing spell? That's impossible—I'm not a Muggle!" Harry gasped.
"You still don't get it, Harry Potter."
The deformed baby spoke with a scratchy voice. "You're weak. You know nothing of magic. The banishing spell doesn't work only on Muggles. Enough talk—Crouch, begin!"
"Yes, my Lord," replied Barty Crouch Jr., licking his lips with twisted anticipation.
He approached the stunned Harry, drew his wand, and pointed it at him.
In an instant, Harry lost control of his body—again! That was the second time today!
Powerless to resist, Harry watched as the gloomy surroundings sharpened into clarity. He realized he'd been wandering this nightmarish place for much longer than he thought.
That grotesque baby—he must be the reincarnation of Voldemort, just as Professor Dumbledore had warned.
Before Harry could think further, Crouch had already pinned him to a grim statue resembling the Grim Reaper.
After binding Harry, Barty ignored his struggles and turned toward a massive cauldron nearby. With a flick of his wand, flames roared to life beneath it. Wisps of green smoke curled upward as the liquid inside began to bubble.
"Everything's ready, my Lord," Barty said reverently.
"Hurry!" Voldemort snapped. "I can't stand this wretched form any longer!"
Barty nodded solemnly, then slowly placed Voldemort's grotesque body into the cauldron. Instantly, a thick green mist surged upward.
From his robes, Barty pulled out a wand engraved with a white bone symbol. With a grave expression, he began the dark incantation.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."
With a wave of his wand, he drew a bone from a nearby grave—Thomas Riddle's tomb.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master."
He calmly sheathed his wand, drew a dagger, and sliced his own palm.
"Argh—!"
Harry flinched at the gruesome sight. In his eyes, this supposedly "handsome" man was nothing but a raving lunatic!
He couldn't help but wonder if this deranged ritual would require more than just Barty's sacrifice. What if he was next?
Though the Room of Requirement held a fair share of dark magic literature, Noah had intentionally shielded young students from most of it. Once a spell was considered taboo, it was practically wiped from the records.
However, the Unforgivable Curses were never among those hidden spells. Harry had once asked Noah why not—and Noah's reply had been blunt and chilling:
"Those are beginner-level compared to the truly forbidden magics. What you need to fear are the ones I've shielded."
And now, Harry realized Noah was right.
Compared to what was happening now, the Unforgivable Curses were practically elementary school tricks.
Although Barty remained outwardly calm, sweat poured down his face from the pain of his self-inflicted wound.
He glanced at Harry, still shackled to the statue, and walked toward him.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."
Harry winced, but inwardly, he sighed in relief.
So it was just his blood they wanted. For a moment, he feared they'd try to take something far worse.
Still, being cut wasn't fun either. And looking at Barty's pained expression, it was clear the spell had its price.
Harry winced as the dagger sliced his hand, drawing blood. He cried out, but inside, he felt strangely composed.
He wasn't afraid—not really.
"Is it because I've studied too much? That I already know what's going to happen? Or maybe… because I trust Noah and Dumbledore?" he thought.
Barty, meanwhile, completed the final step.
He let Harry's blood drip into the cauldron. The liquid inside boiled violently. Flames erupted from beneath, and thick black smoke surged from the surface.
Excited, Barty stepped back. His face was a mix of awe and exhilaration.
The flames blazed wildly, enveloping the cauldron, then slowly began to dim.
Out of the dark mist, a figure emerged—tall, pale-skinned, wearing a black robe. His face was eerily smooth like a newborn's, but he lacked a nose and had no hair.
Harry recognized him instantly.
Voldemort was reborn.
But he couldn't help blurting out:
"Ugh... this guy is so ugly!"
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