This Scar, I Left It!

Kneeling down is impossible, absolutely impossible in this lifetime... and calling him master is even more impossible.

It's like it's the master's task.

Under the watchful eyes of the Death Eaters, Karkaroff straightened his back, staring directly at Voldemort, appearing remarkably... courageous.

Why would someone who always follows his heart do this?

Of course, it's because the person who came wasn't actually Karkaroff; it was just William with his sour face.

Otherwise, given Karkaroff's personality, why would he dare to appear here?

Since it's fake, why not be more blatant about it?

William said directly:

"Voldemort, if I call you Tom Riddle, will you dare answer?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, which flashed with a cold red light, but he was somewhat taken aback.

Aside from Dumbledore, no one has dared to call him by that name for many years!

"You agree?" William laughed loudly. "If you don't, I can give you a reason you can't refuse."

"Master, kill him!" someone shouted.

Malfoy immediately knelt down again, shouting, "Master, kill him! Let me deal with this traitor for you..."

Given that a lowly henchman like Malfoy is taking this so seriously, Voldemort should theoretically be very pleased.

He sneered and raised his wand.

"Cruciatus Curse!"

The Cruciatus Curse wasn't aimed at William, but rather at Malfoy, who was kneeling on the ground.

He writhed and screamed in agony, his face as if wearing a mask of pain.

The other Death Eaters shuddered and didn't dare to breathe.

William stared, completely stunned.

Goodness, compared to Little Tom, the Dark Lord really isn't as bright.

Or rather...

Mood swings.

Harry slumped against Voldemort's father's tombstone, the ropes digging painfully into his wrists.

He looked up at the scene before him, and was utterly terrified.

"I'm afraid I'll be the one who gets tormented soon," he thought to himself.

Harry was desperate. Anyone would do, just please save him!

Dumbledore, where are you?!

And then there's William... When the Quidditch World Cup was kidnapped, it was William suddenly appeared and saved him.

Help me!

Voldemort put away his wand and stopped the torture. Malfoy lay flat on the ground, panting heavily.

Voldemort walked over slowly, his steps light, his voice deep and magnetic.

"Lucius, are you teaching me how to do things?"

What happened next was a treat for foot Fawley.

Voldemort, dressed only in a black robe, walked up to Malfoy, his robe billowing to reveal his muscular thighs.

He lifted his right foot and used the tip of his foot to lift Lucius's black hood.

Voldemort didn't stomp down hard; instead, he rubbed the soles of his bare feet, which were covered in mud, on Lucius's light blond hair.

That was Malfoy's most prized hair.

At this moment, however, he dared not move an inch.

Let alone wiping his feet with his hair, they could even have the Death Eaters lick Voldemort's soles clean!

Death Eaters... just a bunch of servants.

Fortunately, Voldemort wasn't that wicked; his voice was smooth, like a snake, and chillingly cold.

"You want to do it for me? Do you think I'm no good anymore? That I can't even handle a lowly servant, huh?"

Voldemort stomped down, shoving Malfoy's head hard into the muddy pit, and then repeatedly crushed it.

Despite such an insult, Malfoy showed no resentment. He simply lowered his body to cooperate with Voldemort's movements, making it more comfortable for him to step on him and avoid hurting his feet.

Malfoy's mouth was stuffed with dirt, but he still pleaded:

"No, that's not what I meant, Master!"

Voldemort, a seasoned veteran of workplace manipulation, asked in a hoarse voice, "Lucius, are you feeling good?"

"It feels so good... Master, please torture me as much as you want, I only ask that you forgive me..." Malfoy said humbly.

He understood that once Voldemort had tormented him enough, he could save his life.

"No, I will not forgive you. I will not forget, the Dark Lord will not forget!" Voldemort mocked.

"Thirteen long years... I will only forgive you after you have paid back the debt of these thirteen years."

Voldemort looked up through a layer of mist, his red eyes lingering on the Death Eaters.

Everyone trembled involuntarily.

Voldemort's arrogant and unrestrained laughter echoed in the night sky.

He laughed for a while, then slowly stopped, his eyes turning cold as he said:

"I think you've all seen how foolish it is to think this boy is better than me."

Voldemort looked at Harry, who was tied to the tombstone, and said:

"I want to completely dispel any misunderstandings in everyone's minds. Harry Potter's escape from my grasp was purely by chance."

Now I will kill him to prove my power.

"Here and now, in front of you."

Voldemort paced back and forth, laughing loudly, "Here there is no Dumbledore's protection, no Stark's obstruction, and no sacrifice from Potter's mother."

I will give Potter a chance; he can fight me one-on-one fairly, so you won't doubt who is stronger.

The Death Eaters burst into flattering laughter.

Harry struggled, his mouth stuffed with underwear from who-knows-where, and could only make muffled noises.

But despite being silenced, he continued to roar:

"Kill me! Kill me!"

Rather than be tortured to death by Voldemort, Harry would rather find an old, crooked tree and hang himself with his underwear.

That would be quicker and less tormenting.

"I know, I know." Voldemort abandoned Malfoy and walked towards Harry.

He placed a pale hand on Harry's shoulder, leaned close to his ear, and whispered:

"Harry, you want to see your mother, that Mudblood, don't you?"

Harry struggled to break free of his restraints, and a pitiful, angry cry escaped through the cloth in his mouth.

"I remember that night very clearly," Voldemort said in a sympathetic tone, "Your mother knelt before me... begging me to spare you."

He raised his hand, then suddenly opened it and said, "Snap! A green light!"

I accidentally killed her.

"Harry... please forgive me." Voldemort reached out and stroked Harry's face.

Harry felt goosebumps all over his body.

"I really didn't mean to. But she was so noisy, like a fly buzzing in my ear."

I'm so annoyed, my head is throbbing!

So, I killed her.

"I admit, that night..." The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. "I was careless."

But thirteen years later, I returned, and she was gone forever.

Voldemort tapped his wand lightly, and the cloth wriggled and was stuffed tightly into Harry's mouth.

"Death," the Dark Lord whispered in Harry's ear, "Should be a quiet thing."

Wait here for me... I'll kill you in a bit!

Harry struggled desperately. Voldemort didn't say another word; he slowly walked towards Karkaroff.

"Before my duel with Harry Potter, I need to warm up first..." Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

"Come on, Igor Karkaroff."

Didn't you want to give me a reason I couldn't refuse?

Are you trying to challenge my position?

Ha! I won't accept it, because you're not worthy!

Voldemort walked step by step toward Karkaro, and said in a hoarse voice:

"But I will not let you die, as punishment for betraying me... The Inferi will chew your flesh, and the Cruciatus Curse will torment your soul day and night..."

I will control you, make you kill Durmstrang's students, and torture the people you care about most.

The Death Eaters swallowed hard. Voldemort spoke such cruel words in the gentlest of tones... sending chills down their spines.

Voldemort's lipless mouth revealed a smile.

"Courage and stupidity are often separated by a fine line. I'm giving you one last chance, Igor."

I am not a cruel and ungrateful person. To celebrate tonight's resurrection, surrender to me again... kneel down and kiss my feet.

I'm willing to spare your life.

Voldemort, wand in hand, deliberately opened his arms and approached William step by step in a menacing manner.

Before killing Harry, he needed to demonstrate his immense power with a more elaborate and oppressive display.

Karkaroff is neither strong nor weak; he's practically the perfect target.

Perfect.

Without a word, William instantly Apparition and appeared in front of Voldemort, giving him no chance to use magic to block. He then unleashed a whip kick that he and Charlie had practiced for a long time.

But the whip kick was just a feint; a longsword then thrust in with a strange, unexpected motion.

Karkaroff's speed far exceeded Voldemort's expectations.

Moreover, his fighting style is more like that of a Muggle than a wizard.

Even someone as powerful as Voldemort was knocked back by this unexpected attack, and when he looked down, he saw a scarlet blood groove on his neck.

William grinned and said, "This scar, which I left, is your lifelong honor."

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