Chapter 555 The Resurrection of the Dark King
"Do you want to start, Lord Dark Lord?"
Bertha asked carefully - she had just spilled the pot of expensive potion, which made her rarely scolded.
‘You still have to survive quickly and rely on your own strength. Otherwise, I will die with these two guys now…’
Voldemort said terrifiedly, it was the closest time he had been to failing to resurrection!
A madman, a fool!
If this pot of expensive pot of medicine is spilled, he doesn't know how long he will have to wait!
Not to mention the difficulty of collecting materials, just let these two guys boil a pot of appropriate potion again, and they can wipe out all his remaining patience!
‘That guy Severus, no wonder he has such a bad temper all day long. The Potion Professor is really not a worry-free business - these two are still pure blood! ’
He even doubted his strategic viewpoint. If such a person is mixed into pure blood, can he really take these guys to defeat the Ministry of Magic?
But he has no choice, and the best choice at the moment is these two people.
"Prepare to start, Bertha."
Voldemort tried to make his voice convincing, although he himself was a little unconfident.
But now is not the time to be furious. The two Death Eaters in front of us are different from Lucius and the others - Lucius and the others are cunning idiots who need to be spurred, and these two idiots in front of us are idiots who can't make them do better.
"Yes, Lord Dark Lord."
Bertha leaned over carefully and then lit the fire under the crucible - to be honest, she was very scared that the current environment was not a good place.
Because this is a cemetery, a Muggle cemetery.
And the ritual magic she memorized in rote these days, and had strange material requirements.
‘Not here, is the father of Dark Lord, here? ’
She was not sure and did not dare to guess. She just waited for the cauldron to boil and then performed the ceremony that had tortured her for a long time.
"Now, put me in, Bertha."
"Plop!"
Splashes of water.
Bertha almost jumped up.
The commanding tone scared her, and it was too hot.
‘Merlin’s beard, Lord Dark Lord will not drown, right? ’
Such thoughts came to her mind, but the wand in her hand did not stop - the pain and comforting words these days have alternately engraved the ceremony into her deepest memory.
"Father's bone..."
Below the trembling sound was a waving magic wand. The grave that was close to the corner cracked, a small pile of ashes flew up, and then floated into the pot under the power of the ceremony.
The liquid level of the potion began to boil, and Bertha was startled, but she still didn't dare to speak out.
She turned her eyes to the other side, waiting for the crazy worm tail to continue.
The other party has been instructed.
Moreover, the other party did not hesitate at all - before Bertha could even urge him with his eyes, the madman cut off his right hand with one knife.
"Servant..."
She stuttered and recited the second ritual sentence, but found something unexpected.
Even the madman could feel the pain. After cutting off his right hand, the insect tail lay on the edge of the pot. His nose, tears and saliva mixed with blood began to storm, and the flesh fell into the pot of liquid together.
The fiery red potion suddenly became a little strange, but Bertha could no longer stop.
She took a breath and looked at the worm tail with help - this madman should have done it, but he seemed to have lost his few sanity in pain.
‘Sorry…sorry…’
Bertha trembled her hands and moved to the Muggle tied to the tombstone, but she couldn't say a word. She could only use apologies to gently slide the other person's arm with a knife, and then trembled and took a glass of blood.
"Enemy's blood..." She walked to the cauldron with her eyes closed, and then poured the final demand for the ceremony into the cauldron.
The boiling potion began to turn pale and then began to emit light.
Even the forbidden black magic and the taboo rituals among the forbidden ones will not affect the crucible's dazzling white light that illuminates the sky.
Taboos and black magic do not affect this is a ritual that belongs to life, even if it is twisted.
Water vapor emerged in large quantities, and a tall and thin figure emerged in the water vapor.
The potion that was originally used to resurrection disappeared at this moment, and a cold and sharp voice that Bertha had never heard before was heard, "Where is my clothes, Bertha?"
He was obviously the same person as before, but at this moment he put endless pressure on Bertha.
She carefully leaned over and handed over the wizard robe that had been prepared long ago.
"It's so good, Bertha...so good..."
Voldemort stroked his body-he had never felt its existence so greedily.
It was not the disgusting body of Qiluo, nor the body of the baby who was about to starve to death from the insect tail before, but the most powerful body he only made after he tried to perform more than a dozen extremely dangerous magic deformation surgeries!
All unnecessary things are abandoned, only the body and strength, endless power.
What is Dumbledore, what is a legend, it is just a bubble before his powerful power!
He is back!
He was extremely sure of this matter!
The Dark King, who made the entire magic world tremble, was resurrected at this moment!
From then on, he is no longer a disgusting bug or a humble wandering soul, but a most powerful wizard!
"Master Dark Lord..."
Bertha's voice rang.
Voldemort glanced at Bertha and finally didn't get angry - today was a good day. Not suitable.
He even prepared to forgive the guys who were hiding outside and almost betray him, let alone some small offenses.
Stupid loyalty is also meaningful. Although I have experienced some twists and turns, and messy things, it is still completed.
This was enough, and he was even willing to give a reward and forgive the madman-like dwarf.
Even when he made such an offensive move.
"Mr. Dark Lord, you..."
Bertha's voice rang again.
Voldemort turned his head and stared at the Death Eater with a bad memory - this was the second offense!
But he was still ready to forgive the other party once, of course, after the warning.
"Bertha."
He opened his mouth, but suddenly felt a wetness.
The moist and fishy sweetness with the rust smell is the smell of blood, which he likes very much.
But where did it come from?
More smells poured in, and he didn't even have time to think about it.
"Wand! Bertha!"
"Remove your weapons!"
The spell was faster than the wand was handed over, and Bertha's wand flew up and fell into the hand of a handsome face that Voldemort was extremely familiar with.
(This chapter ends)