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Chapter 960: Saving Harry Potter
Chapter 960: Saving Harry Potter
Harry may never understand how things have turned out this way. Just a moment ago, he was in the maze of the Quidditch pitch, participating in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. How did he suddenly end up here, bound and captive?
He didn't even have time to process why he had fainted or who had kidnapped him, but Harry knew his current situation was less than ideal.
A man both unfamiliar and infamous came into view—the very person Sirius Black wanted to kill with his bare hands, and also Harry's enemy—Wormtail.
Wormtail stood before a large cauldron, engaged in some unknown activity.
Before Harry could even begin to wonder when Wormtail had kidnapped him, he was stunned into silence by the man's actions. Wormtail placed an incredibly ugly baby into the cauldron. What was he up to?
"Ah!"
The scar on Harry's forehead suddenly throbbed with unbearable pain, causing him to nearly pass out.
Faintly, he heard Wormtail's muttering, and then he felt a sharp sting on his arm as if sliced by a blade. As Harry struggled to open his eyes, he saw a black figure slowly rising from the cauldron.
When the man stepped out of the cauldron and donned the robe Wormtail handed him, Harry felt a chilling shudder run through his body. It was a face he had often seen in his nightmares over the past three years.
Lord Voldemort had returned.
"Oh, if this is a terrible nightmare, please let me wake up!" Harry screamed desperately in his mind.
But this was no nightmare.
He felt utterly hopeless.
Why hadn't he listened to advice? Why did he participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Why didn't he just wait at the entrance of the maze for the tournament to end?
Harry regretted his choices.
But it was all too late.
Lord Voldemort had resurrected using his blood.
Voldemort proudly boasted and shared his story, reveling in his accomplishments. He then used the Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm to summon his servants—the Death Eaters.
They were a group of cloaked figures with eerie patterned masks, resembling house-elves in a kitchen. They crawled submissively toward Voldemort, kneeling and kissing the hem of his robe, pleading for his forgiveness.
As Voldemort greeted his old friends, Harry heard him address some of the Death Eaters by name.
It wasn't just prejudice against the Malfoys.
Lucius Malfoy was indeed a Death Eater.
His two lackeys, Goyle and Crabbe, were also Death Eaters, as was MacNair, who had nearly killed Buckbeak the previous year. Many other unfamiliar wizards were among their ranks.
All the Death Eaters stared at Harry with uncanny gazes, eyeing the legendary savior, the renowned Harry Potter, with his face contorted in despair.
"You have all noticed, no doubt, that the famous Harry Potter is here with us tonight," Voldemort said, his pale face twisting into a smile. "We might even call him our guest of honor."
Harry thought Voldemort would kill him in front of his servants, but the Dark Lord, flattered by Malfoy's compliments, chose to share the story of his remarkable survival instead, granting Harry a temporary reprieve.
However, he had no idea that his ability to stand there and gloat about his accomplishments to the Death Eaters was only made possible by the time bought with the life of his most loyal servant.
"I know you all believe this boy to be my match—" Voldemort raised his wand and sent a Cruciatus Curse at Harry, letting all the Death Eaters witness his agony—"the foolish notion that this boy is somehow my equal."
"I admit Harry Potter's escape from me was sheer luck," Voldemort said calmly. "Here, there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him."
"Now, I shall kill Harry Potter," Voldemort declared, knowing how to regain the loyalty of his followers, "to prove my power. But I shall give him a chance. He can fight, and in doing so, die a quick and painless death, like his parents, and then your doubts will be removed forever."
And so, in a daze, Harry found himself with his wand back in his hand, standing opposite Voldemort, preparing for a duel that was unfair from the start.
Voldemort wanted to kill him to establish his dominance and planned to toy with him before delivering the final blow.
Harry stubbornly clutched his wand, his eyes fixed on Voldemort, ready for their final confrontation. He knew he would be killed, and there was nothing he could do about it... Dumbledore wasn't there to save him this time.
Two years ago, Harry had participated in a short-term Dueling Club, and in recent months, he had learned quite a few spells from Sirius. But none of that would help him now, for he was facing Lord Voldemort.
"Be brave, Harry."
Harry took a deep breath, trying to stand tall and proud.
Even if it meant dying like his father, he would not submit to Voldemort's whims... He would not beg for mercy... Harry raised his wand, standing defiantly before Voldemort, ready to cast a spell.
But Voldemort was much faster. Before Harry could even utter a spell, he was struck by another Cruciatus Curse.
The excruciating pain returned, engulfing every inch of Harry's body. His head felt like it was about to split open, but he gritted his teeth and bore it, even as his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.
The pain subsided, but Harry's body continued to shake uncontrollably. Still, he clung to his wand, turning over and trying to attack Voldemort. However, he was struck down once more by the Cruciatus Curse.
This time, Harry couldn't hold back his agonized scream—a piercing cry he had never made before in his life.
"Look how resilient he is, still refusing to yield, still hoping to duel," Voldemort said, lowering his wand and speaking casually. "Let Harry rest a while... I think he's earned a respite, don't you?"
The Death Eaters laughed mockingly, reveling in Harry's misery. They wanted to see him beg for mercy, but Harry remained silent, his wand still clutched in his hand.
Not even the Imperius Curse could make Harry submit or plead for Voldemort's forgiveness.
"You should yield, and your death will be quick and painless," Voldemort said.
Just as Voldemort was about to cast another Cruciatus Curse, Harry finally cast the first spell he had learned in dueling—Expelliarmus.
However, the spell had no effect. Voldemort merely tilted his head to avoid it, and the intense pain returned, causing Harry's already weakened body to nearly collapse to the ground.
The pain clouded Harry's consciousness, but he knew he must not kneel before Voldemort... He would die standing, just like his father.
Exhausted, Harry struggled to get back on his feet, but his body refused to cooperate.
"Oh, very well. I may have gone a little too far, as Harry originally wanted to die a heroic death. I should give him that chance," said Lord Voldemort, gazing at the collapsed Harry with a pleased look on his face. "It's undeniable that he's tougher than most, let's give him a dignified death!"
As Voldemort prepared to cast the Avada Kedavra curse on Harry, a bright flame ignited in the distance, and from it, Albus Dumbledore emerged.
Voldemort turned towards the familiar figure, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "How foolish of you, Dumbledore. Do you really think you can save Harry Potter by yourself?"
"The Aurors are on their way," Dumbledore said calmly, glancing at the fallen Harry. "I'm sure they'll be delighted to capture all of you, and then they'll have no further excuses."
The Death Eaters stirred restlessly at his words. If anyone else had spoken, they would have mocked them, but the speaker was Dumbledore.
"Silence!"
Voldemort waved his wand, silencing the agitated Death Eaters, and then turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "I'm curious, how do you plan to duel me while also protecting that boy?"
"I can't stop you if that's what you truly desire," Dumbledore replied calmly. "But I think you won't be able to stop me from killing the others."
Dumbledore's voice was icy, sending shivers down the spines of all the Death Eaters present.
They all understood that if Voldemort killed Harry Potter in front of Dumbledore, at least a few of the Death Eaters would have to die alongside the boy.
Upon hearing Dumbledore's voice, Harry, who had been almost completely hopeless, finally felt a glimmer of hope. However, before he could even rejoice, he realized that his actions had put Dumbledore in a difficult position.
"Never mind me, take revenge for me, kill them all!"
Harry shouted with all his might, his voice filled with desperation.
At that moment, the faces of all the Death Eaters contorted in shock. They never expected Harry Potter to be so ruthless, willing to sacrifice himself in such a manner.
"Harry has made his resolve." Dumbledore stared at the Death Eaters standing beside Voldemort, seemingly choosing a target. If it weren't for Voldemort's presence, the Death Eaters would have fled already.
"You're bluffing!"
Voldemort stroked his wand, waving his hand dismissively at the Death Eaters.
The Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief. They had no desire to be caught in the crossfire of a duel between the two powerful wizards, as it would undoubtedly be catastrophic.
"Shall we duel, or are you afraid?"
"Why would I play into your hands?" Voldemort examined the elderly wizard before him, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I know you wish to save Harry Potter."
"You heard him. You can't protect them all," Dumbledore said, raising his wand and firing a spell at Voldemort.
"That's not like you, I know you'll try to save Potter, and I know your weakness," Voldemort said confidently, as if he had seen through Dumbledore's plan.
At that moment, Dumbledore took the opportunity to attack one of the unfortunate Death Eaters. If it weren't for Voldemort's quick intervention, that Death Eater would have surely perished.
As Voldemort intercepted the attack, Dumbledore seized the chance to cast a lethal spell at Voldemort, holding him back.
Fawkes swooped down from above, diving towards Harry in an attempt to carry him away from Voldemort's grasp.
"Do you really think you can take Harry away from me with such a cheap trick?"
Voldemort raised his wand at the phoenix, unleashing a piercing sound, and a spell pierced Fawkes's body, killing Dumbledore's beloved phoenix.
Where Fawkes had fallen, amidst the ashes, lay a wool sock.
However, before Harry could react, Voldemort noticed the sock's secret even sooner. Despite Dumbledore's best efforts to buy time, the savior failed to seize the opportunity.
"Is this your trick?"
Voldemort looked at the sock with contempt and destroyed it without hesitation.
Dumbledore's expression darkened as he realized what had happened.
That wool sock was indeed the portal key he had prepared for Harry.
If Harry had reached out and grabbed the sock, he would have been instantly transported back to Hogwarts.
But the plan had failed.
"Since you want to save him so badly, I'll just kill him."
With the Death Eaters gone, Voldemort had no further concerns. He raised his wand, ready to cast the Avada Kedavra curse on Harry in front of Dumbledore, who was powerless to stop him.
However, something bizarre happened. Harry's hand suddenly moved on its own, his wand pointing at Voldemort and unleashing a spell that clashed with the Avada Kedavra.
In the next moment, the two wands were connected by a dazzling beam of golden light.
Voldemort stared in shock, never expecting such an odd turn of events.
And then, something even more extraordinary occurred. Harry Potter vanished, transported away from that place.
The connection between the two wands was severed.
"What have you done?"
Voldemort was furious. He couldn't believe that Dumbledore had managed to rescue Harry Potter right under his nose; it was a humiliation for him.
However, Voldemort failed to notice that when Harry suddenly disappeared, Dumbledore's face also betrayed a look of astonishment. Clearly, the old wizard had nothing to do with what had just transpired.
Indeed, who could have foreseen that Harry Potter was wearing a sock that had been transfigured into a portal key? Even if Voldemort could easily see through some things, he certainly didn't have the time to pay attention to what socks or underwear Harry was wearing, nor would he have thought to check for a portal key.
If Barty Crouch Jr. had transfigured his underwear into a portal key, it's possible that Dumbledore wouldn't have discovered it so easily, and who knows, he might have even been... Well, let's just say he could have been transported away.
Of course, the socks were a gift from Sirius Black, who had specifically instructed Harry to wear them during the tournament, which was why he felt confident enough to lurk near Tom Riddle's grave to ambush Pettigrew.
As for whose idea it was, Sirius had repeatedly assured everyone that it was his own brilliant plan, and Remus Lupin could vouch for him.
(End of Chapter)
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