Barty Crouch! It's actually Barty Crouch!
The last Death Eaters to raid the camp during the Quidditch World Cup was none other than Barty Crouch!
But why? Back then, he didn't even spare his own son Barty Crouch Jr.., and he was so righteous and indignant. Why would he now stand on Voldemort's side?
Dumbledore clutched his bleeding abdomen, his expression one of extreme pain.
The silver dagger was a cursed Dark Magic item. Although it wasn't as terrible as the curse on Gaunt Ring, it still caused his body to suffer a continuous pain as if he were being burned by fire.
"Professor!" Harry looked at the noticeably hunched back in front of him with worried eyes.
Dumbledore raised his other hand, which was holding the Elder Wand, to indicate that he was alright.
If his current state is broadcast live to the whole world, it will only deepen the wizards' fear of Voldemort.
He straightened up and quickly used magic to stop the bleeding from the wound.
Barty Crouch's ferocious smile froze instantly. "Looks like Augustus's plan isn't so great after all."
Augustus was Luke Wood used the Chaos Blood Ash Curse to self-destruct at the Ministry of Magic. Barty Crouch must have conspired with him to save Fudge and seriously injure himself to clear himself of suspicion.
Barty Crouch dropped the dagger with considerable regret. "What a pity, that damned Mudblood Wayne didn't come with you."
Dumbledore heard that Luke Wood's plans also included Vincent, he immediately felt relieved.
If Fudge hadn't insisted on explaining everything, he probably would have been struck by that cursed dagger too.
The reason Luke Wood targeted Vincent was probably because half of his face was disfigured that night.
"Sizzle sizzle—" A dazzling white light emanated from the crucible.
The ritual was complete, and the Death Eaters had indeed obtained Harry's blood long ago.
The instant Dumbledore turned his head, Karkaroff, controlled by the Imperius Curse, raised his blood-stained wand.
The spell struck the vortex of red flames, and the next second, an even more powerful spell was deflected back.
Karkaroff fell backward after being hit, and Barty Crouch cursed "useless" before quickly drawing his wand to defend himself.
Even after being stabbed, Dumbledore is still Dumbledore. He is the strongest wizard of his time. Schemes and tricks may weaken him, but they cannot defeat him.
As Barty Crouch fought desperately to defend himself, the boiling cauldron continued to spew out diamond-like Mars, and everything nearby seemed to turn into a deep, black velvet.
Peter Pettigrew had already retreated far away, quietly watching the Mars on the crucible die out, watching a plume of white steam rise, and watching the figure in the white mist.
Harry, who was clutching his forehead in pain, was also watching all of this.
The figure became clearer; he was tall and thin, like a skeleton.
"Put on a robe." Voldemort's cold, shrill voice came from the steam.
Peter Pettigrew hurriedly bent down and picked up the black robe from the ground with his good left hand. Next to the robe, an empty bottle still had a drop of dark red blood on it.
"Ah—" Harry felt like his head was about to explode.
He is not yet proficient in Occlumency, and emptying his mind can only slightly alleviate the pain caused by the scars.
When Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron and stared at him, revealing the face that often appeared in his nightmares, the pain vanished.
Pale skin, whiter than a skull; two large, blood-red eyes; a nose as flat as a snake; two narrow, slit-like nostrils...
Through the Magical Communicator worn on Harry's wrist, wizards around the world watched the live broadcast and witnessed Voldemort's resurrection.
Upon seeing this, Fudge and Umbridge immediately collapsed to the ground.
Their eyes revealed endless fear, half of which came from Voldemort, and the other half from imagining their own fate.
The Ministry of Magic kept it a secret for so many years, but in the end, the wizards, who were completely unprepared, found out.
Fudge watched in despair as Voldemort on the projection screen examined his new body, his slender, pale fingers stroking from his chest down to his arms and face, his blood-red eyes shining even brighter in the darkness.
Voldemort raised his hands, flexing his fingers with ecstatic joy, completely ignoring Peter Pettigrew was kneeling on the ground, bleeding and convulsing.
He inserted his unusually long fingers into a deep pocket and pulled out a wand. After gently stroking the wand once, he excitedly twisted his neck and looked at Dumbledore, who had already knocked out Barty Crouch and was now looking over.
The two powerful wizards stared at each other for a full half minute before Voldemort broke the silence first, "Wormtail, extend your arm."
Peter Pettigrew stretched out his bloody, severed arm. "Oh... Master... Thank you..."
Voldemort sneered, "Not this one, Wormtail."
"Master... please... please..."
Voldemort raised his wand slightly, Peter Pettigrew was pulled in front of him.
He grabbed the other man's intact left arm, tore off the sleeve to reveal a red tattoo of a skull with a snake spitting out of its mouth.
This is the graphic that appeared on Peter Pettigrew's execution day and during the Quidditch World Cup attack; it's the Dark Mark.
Voldemort examined it carefully, then suddenly looked up at Dumbledore and Harry, who were quietly watching him.
"How many of you do you think have the guts to come back?"
He completely ignored Peter Pettigrew's uncontrollable sobs, and continued to ask, pressing his pale, long fingers against the Dark Mark, "And how many people will be foolish enough not to come?"
Harry's forehead scar throbbed with pain once again.
Peter Pettigrew let out a wail as the mark on his left arm slowly turned black.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then said, "Tom, I must remind you, we are broadcasting everything that is happening here live."
The cruel, smug expression on Voldemort's face seemed to have been paused.
Clearly, he anticipated that whichever Champion took the Goblet of Fire would be able to successfully lure Dumbledore, and he also anticipated that Vincent had left a backdoor that could track his location, but he did not anticipate that this backdoor could also forcibly open the video communication function.
No wonder Dumbledore appeared in front of Harry; if it weren't for Draco, Luke Wood's plan would probably have fallen through.
"Ha—" Voldemort's snake face twisted, revealing an extremely cruel smile. "Wayne, Nicolas Flamel's Mudblood apprentice, I never thought he would actually have the ability to change the times."
His blood-red eyes were fixed on the Magical Communicator on Harry's wrist. "But so what? There can only be one victor in this era, and that is me, Voldemort, who has returned from hell."
Dumbledore shook his head and smiled. "Tom, I'm pretty sure you won't be the winner of this era."
Having grown accustomed to the pain of being burned alive, it was time for the wizards, filled with fear and despair, to regain their hope.