The students, like a flock of startled birds, rushed through the gates of Hogwarts in a panic.
Draco and Hermione were at the back, preparing to step through the gates and return to the relatively safe school environment.
A greywood owl, however, swooped down Silencio from the deepening twilight like a ghost, dropping the parchment scroll precisely at Draco's feet.
Draco paused, frowning as he looked at the scroll of paper on the ground, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
He bent down, quickly picked it up, and unfolded it.
The ink on the paper was not completely dry.
" Little Hangleton, Riddle House Cemetery."
No signature
But Draco understood in an instant.
Voldemort... is about to rise again!
" Draco? What's this?"
Hermione leaned closer and looked at the note in his hand.
" Riddle House cemetery... Voldemort's father's grave?" She was utterly shocked, quickly grasping the connection. "He... he's there? He used Harry's blood... the resurrection ritual? This... how is this possible?! He wasn't..."
"Plans can't keep up with changes, or rather... I underestimated certain variables, or overestimated the absoluteness of the seal."
Draco's voice was unusually calm, "Someone may have helped him bypass the seal. Harry was kidnapped because of this. We must get there immediately!"
"Us? Just the two of us?" Hermione, though equally anxious, still retained her composure. "This is too dangerous! We should tell Professor Dumbledore immediately and have him..."
"It's too late, Hermione," Draco interrupted her. "Look at this delay, the ritual may have already begun, or even... nearly completed. By the time we find Dumbledore and explain things, it might be too late. Harry can't afford to wait."
"I know it's risky, but I'm confident I can fight Voldemort, you..." Looking at Hermione's pale face and resolute eyes, he knew it was impossible to persuade her to stay.
"... Stay close to me!"
Hermione bit her lower lip.
She knew Draco was telling the truth.
Time is Harry's life.
Moreover, having experienced the Ancient Magic, Hermione had a deep understanding of Draco's power. Without further hesitation, she nodded emphatically and gripped her wand tightly.
"I understand, let's go together!"
The two exchanged a glance and said nothing more.
Draco quickly pinpointed Little Hangleton's approximate location and reached out to grab Hermione's arm tightly.
"Bang!"
Two almost overlapping, slight popping sounds
The two figures vanished instantly from the gates of Hogwarts, leaving only the Greywood owl that had delivered the message, flapping its wings and silently disappearing into the night.
at the same time,
Hogwarts Castle was in complete chaos, with students rushing in and informing every professor they encountered of the news.
Professor McGonagall was maintaining order in the Great Hall when she heard Ron and the others' incoherent but terrified account. Her face turned ashen, and she dropped her wine glass.
She contacted Dumbledore in the most urgent way and ordered the Prefect of each house to immediately take stock of their students, especially Gryffindor, to confirm Harry Potter's absence.
Professor Flitwick, in an unprecedentedly stern voice, ordered the Ravenclaw students not to leave the common room.
Professor Sprout reassured the frightened Hufflepuff students with concern, while sending the most perceptive plants from the greenhouse to investigate the castle's perimeter.
Upon hearing the news, Professor Snape's sallow face seemed to drain even more of its color. His black robes billowed as he swiftly fled the cellar like a giant bat, disappearing without a trace.
Other professors...
Sinistra and Babbling, among others, also looked grave, and increased patrols and vigilance throughout the castle.
The students, still shaken, gathered in their respective common rooms, discussing the situation with growing fear and anxiety.
Harry has been kidnapped by a dark wizard? This is practically the most direct attack and mockery of the school! Many people are reminded of the horror of the Chamber of Secrets opening two years ago, and a sense of unease is growing.
Dumbledore soon appeared in the Entrance Hall, where he received a brief report from Professor McGonagall and the most observant witness, Ron, among others.
"Summon all members of the Order of the Phoenix, immediately," he said to Lupin and Sirius, who had rushed over. The latter was nearly driven mad upon hearing that his godson was in trouble, but they were at a loss for what to do.
The nights in Little Hangleton are eerily quiet.
The abandoned Riddle House stands like a huge, crooked tombstone on a hillside overgrown with weeds.
Behind the mansion lies an even more sinister family cemetery.
The dilapidated tombstones were leaning precariously, with thorns and ivy coiling around them like venomous snakes.
The air was thick with magical energy, a mixture of the scents of blood, bones, hatred, and Dark Magic.
In the center of the cemetery, a clearing had been created, and a complex magic circle was drawn on the ground with a dark liquid.
At the center of the formation, a huge stone cauldron was churning with pearly white steam, making a bubbling sound.
The person stood beside the magic circle.
No, perhaps they can no longer be fully called human.
He was tall and thin, like a skeleton wrapped in a black velvet robe, his skin a deathly pale white, as if it had never seen sunlight, eerily smooth.
There wasn't a single hair on its head or face.
This might be the reason he became stronger!
His face was flat like a snake, with two thin nostrils and two scarlet slits in his pupils.
Those were reptilian eyes.
He had no lips; his mouth was a twisted slit.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, now known as Voldemort.
He stood there in his prime.
He succeeded.
He successfully used his father's bones, Peter's arm, and Harry's blood to complete the oldest and most evil Dark Magic rebirth ritual, reshaping his body.
At this moment, he was slightly moving his newly grown fingers, feeling the surge of magic coursing through his veins.
It was a sense of power that surpassed all living beings, and the snake's eyes also gleamed with ecstasy, cruelty, and boundless ambition.
At his feet, Peter Pettigrew lay limp on the ground, his severed wrist bandaged with dirty strips of cloth, still bleeding.
His face was ashen, and he trembled with fear and blood loss, sweat dripping from his forehead.
He sacrificed his own flesh and blood to bring his master back to life, but now he felt only regret and fear of dying.
Voldemort lowered his head and glanced with his cold red eyes at this despicable, cowardly, yet "meritorious" servant.
He slowly raised his pale hand, and whispered a complex and difficult incantation. A flash of light appeared on his wand.
A wisp of silvery substance, like liquid metal, flowed from the wand, twisting and shaping in the air, eventually transforming into a right hand that shimmered with a cold metallic luster!