Resurrection Ritual

In a colorless world, Crouch's body was filled with a surging, powerful black-gray Magic Power, his viscous blood and slippery muscles intertwined with the Magic Power, sticking stickily to his bones.

A faint, pungent stench of rotting flesh filled the air. Crouch's skin appeared even paler in the firelight. Loren saw his body sway slightly, and his Magic Power rapidly gathered at his chest.

It was as if flesh and blood were being ripped away; the four limbs quickly withered and shrank, leaving only a layer of dry skin covering the bones, making it even more distorted than House-elf.

The skin on his face began to collapse, and the muscles that had lost their elasticity could no longer support the organs. Crouch's lips, nose, and ears slumped down, hanging precariously from his skull.

His chest quickly filled out, his heart pounding against his ribs with a dull thud. Under Bellatrix's admiring gaze, his tattered clothes were parted by a slender limb, revealing the monster emerging from the body's chest.

Upon seeing the monster, a sharp, stabbing pain surged from the scar on Harry's forehead, as if two cranes were hooking the scar and dragging it in two directions, the intense pain almost tearing Harry's skull apart.

What a monster that was!

It was a sticky, ugly lump of flesh, with tender flesh and four strange, thin, and soft limbs, like a curled-up baby; or like a deformed snake, with dark pink skin wrinkled together as if covered in scales, and a flat snake face with a pair of vertical pupils that glowed with scarlet light.

Its appearance tinged the dim moonlight with an eerie quality.

Loren looked up at Crouch's chest. He remembered the Wraith Voldemort he had seen in his dormitory a few years ago. At that time, Voldemort was between a physical body and an intangible body, existing in the gap between life and death, possessing a weak amount of Magic Power, and could only possess people and pass through walls.

Voldemort's Wraith is bound to the human world because of his Horcrux, yet he is also entangled with the Veil of Death, making it impossible for him to integrate into the normal world.

This monstrous body is now also a manifestation of Wraith, but compared to the loose Grey Mist, solid flesh and blood contain a vibrant life force, making it more capable of healing the soul. If he wasn't mistaken, this Snake-Infant Monster had absorbed Crouch's entire Magic Power and life force, and its body was also infused with Unicorn blood...

If his original state was a balanced scale, with the bond of life represented by the Horcrux on one side and the irresistible call of the world of death on the other, his numerous materials full of vigorous life force broke the balance between life and death.

Now, he needs to sculpt a suitable body for himself.

Crouch's broken body had fulfilled its purpose and fell limply backward. The monster fell into the crucible with a thud, and the splashing water fell into the woodpile, instantly evaporating into steam with a hissing sound.

Bellatrix watched this scene with utter reverence, took a deep breath, raised her wand, closed her eyes reverently, and spoke to the night sky in a trembling voice filled with excitement:

"Your son can be reborn from your father's bones, even if he is donated unintentionally!"

"Crack..."

The grave bearing the name "Tom Riddle" cracked open, and a wisp of dust rose from the ground where the body was buried, ascending into the air, while the ashes gently fell into the crucible at the call of the spirit.

"Hiss..."

In an instant, water splashed everywhere, and the diamond-like, silvery liquid surface instantly turned into a vibrant blue.

A few scattered drops of liquid splashed onto Crouch's corpse beneath the crucible. The withered skin, touched only slightly, instantly became a bloody mess, and wisps of black mist rose from it.

Bellatrix wore a maniacal grin, rolled up her left sleeve, and from the exposed pale arm, one could vaguely tell she had once been a beautiful woman. With her right hand, she drew a gleaming dagger from her cloak, her voice trembling even more violently:

"The flesh of your servant, given voluntarily, can bring your master back to life."

Bellatrix brandished the dagger with a fierce expression. The thin metal blade pierced through flesh, and the sound of blood spurting from her veins echoed as the night wind blew through the corridor, followed by her suppressed and restrained scream of pain.

With a thud, the arm fell into the crucible.

The potion turned fiery red, shining with a light even more intense than a bonfire.

Bellatrix took a few deep, greedy breaths, and dragged herself to Harry, her smile twisted and contorted with suppressed pain:

"The blood of your enemy, if forced to be donated, can bring your enemy back to life!"

The one-armed man held a gleaming silver dagger against Harry's arm, pressing it down until the skin was dented. In a moment, it easily pierced through, and both of their blood flowed down their sleeves, dripping onto the stone sculptures and grass, reflecting the firelight and moonlight, a crimson color with an eerie quality.

Harry struggled for a few moments, his gaze gradually turning indifferent as he coldly watched her pull a small glass bottle from her pocket with trembling hands and place it on the wound to collect a small amount of blood.

As the blood was poured into the crucible, the liquid inside immediately turned a dazzling milky white. Tiny, diamond-like sparks splashed out, indistinguishable as water droplets or Mars, bright and dazzling, making everything around them appear as black velvet.

Loren carefully observed the ritual process, suppressing his tension and unease, and then memorized the materials and incantations he could deduce.

He looked up at the slender crescent moon, wondering if the celestial phenomena would affect the ritual, and whether the spell would be cast differently under a full moon and a crescent moon...

The entire ritual resembled brewing Potions, or perhaps a profound incantation. The three offerings served as both materials and parameters: relatives, servants, and enemies, corresponding to bones, flesh, and blood, constructing a unique physical body.

Finally, Voldemort's Wraith was added, and the Resurrection Ritual was completed.

"Crackling..."

The flames grew stronger and more intense, and a plume of white steam rose from the crucible, turning into a thick white mist. Through the churning, hazy mist, bright yellow flames leaped up from the firewood beneath the crucible, engulfing the entire vessel in flames.

The eerie mixture in the white mist surged and boiled, the liquid a mixture of pale and pink, as if some tender flesh and bones were being stirred into a paste, with filamentous blood vessels coalescing in the paste.

After an unknown amount of time, the mixture solidified into a blurry human figure. A man's black figure emerged from the thick fog, tall yet thin, like a skeleton, his entire body pale. He still had a snake-like face, with two vertical pupils in his eye sockets, and where his nose should have been, there were only two slit-like pores.

Unbeknownst to them, the thick white fog transformed into pure black mist, which drifted down onto the man's shoulders and became a wide black robe.

Harry had only one thought in his mind:

Voldemort has been resurrected.