hotmtlnovel Chapter 250 Reshaping the Soul and Relinquishing Power
Chapter 250 Reshaping the Soul and Relinquishing Power
Chapter 250 Reshaping the Soul and Relinquishing Power
Since Voldemort seized power over the Polish Ministry of Magic, the Polish magical world has been in turmoil several times.
The first thing was that Voldemort enacted the "Law of the Bloodline," which divided all wizards in the world into different classes.
Purebloods are considered superior; mixed-race individuals are second best; and those born as Muggles are stripped of their human status and simply called "outcasts."
The second thing was that the scoundrel set up a system of segregation, requiring purebloods and mixed-bloods to build walls and fences where they lived, and not to cross them.
If any person of mixed blood dares to offend a pure-blood lord, it is a grave offense.
The most terrifying thing is the third thing: this bald guy set up a special department called "Secret Aurors", which are all former Death Eaters.
Without needing any written documents or asking any questions, anyone deemed suspicious or of impure lineage is arrested and interrogated using a curse.
Once you enter that secret Aurora, even if you don't die, you'll be skinned alive.
This situation terrified all the officials in the Ministry of Magic, from top to bottom, making them as frightened as birds startled by a bow.
During the day, though clad in brocade robes and official boots, it felt as if one were walking on ice; returning home at night, hearing the wind whistling outside the window, one felt as if an Aurora had captured someone.
Everyone racked their brains, rummaged through their family genealogies, and desperately tried to extract some proof of "pure blood" from the bones of their ancestors for eight generations.
"Please, Lady Lestrange, I really am a pure-blood wizard, we are the same kind—"
"Shut up! You bastard! Kneel down right now!"
"No, wait! I must report to you! A Squib lives in Warsaw, and he has tainted the wizard's bloodline!"
"Extremely painful!"
In the hall of the Polish Ministry of Magic, Bellatrix, wand in hand, cast a curse at a half-blood wizard.
The wizard immediately knelt down, his spine bent like a fully drawn bow, his whole body trembling violently, and his teeth chattering.
Dozens of officials came and went in the large hall.
Those on duty hurriedly sidestepped and detoured, as if avoiding a wildfire; those discussing matters hurriedly walked with their heads down, as if dodging a deadly blade; those on patrol retreated in panic, as if fleeing for their lives. Truly, they were all keeping their eyes down, pretending not to see anything.
Bella crouched down again, grabbed the man's sideburns and lifted him up, using her wand to lift his chin, saying, "Now put your hands above your head, you bastard."
The half-blood wizard felt as if a thousand ants were crawling into his heart, and his marrow was being boiled in hot oil. He was in so much pain that his soul and spirit were about to be scattered, but he dared not disobey in the slightest.
He could only barely straighten his trembling skin, raise his hands above his head, and plead in anguish, "Please, spare me—"
Bella saw his contorted face clearly, her cheeks flushed instantly, her nostrils flared, and she exhaled more and more rapidly.
She licked her lips and said in a hoarse voice, "Of course, my dear little bastard, I'll set you free right now."
With that, Bella reversed her grip on the wand and plunged it down onto the top of Bella's head.
"Flesh and blood turned to stone!"
The curse followed the staff's fall, and the staff tip pierced three-tenths of an inch into the skull.
The man's pleading expression froze for a moment, and then from head to toe, his muscles and bones turned a bluish-gray stone color.
Its veins were clearly visible, and the folds of its clothes were perfectly formed. In the blink of an eye, it transformed into a kneeling stone sculpture begging for its life.
Bella put away her wand and examined the newly sculpted stone sculpture for a while, truly delighted.
He immediately turned around and headed towards the fountain statue in the middle of the hall.
Listen, dear reader: that fountain statue is truly bizarre. At the very bottom lie three naked Muggles, with two ragged mixed-race figures strapped to their backs.
The two half-blood wizards also knelt down, their four arms raised high above their heads, their palms barely supporting the left and right feet of a pure-blood wizard.
Bella crossed over to the mixed-race statue on the left, and with a flick of her wand at the newly formed statue, the two statues instantly shifted their positions.
Having given up, I stepped back a few paces and saw the stone sculptures kneeling in layers, supporting each other, making the order even more solemn.
A hint of pride gleamed in her eyes as she exclaimed, "This is simply the most perfect sculptor in the world!"
Before he could finish speaking, a flash of green fire appeared in the fireplace beside him, and then a white-haired man in a cloak stepped out—it was Lucius.
"Oh! Look who's here!"
Bella grinned wickedly, circled Lucius, and said in a sarcastic tone, "So it's Mr. Malfoy, who raised a family of traitors."
Lucius remained expressionless and said coldly, "If in your eyes only dying in vain can prove loyalty to your master, then none of us should be alive."
"Do you know what happens to those children who want to come to Poland to follow their master?"
"Potter killed them all!"
"Ha!" Bella scoffed, disdainfully saying, "To die on the path of following their master is their honor!"
She suddenly took a few steps closer, her nose almost touching Lucius's face. "But your son is a complete coward! A wimp! A spineless coward!"
"A spineless coward!"
Spit rained down on his face, but Lucius neither dodged nor avoided it. He simply raised his hand to wipe his cheek and said softly, "He just made the right choice."
"Now, move aside, I need to go find my master."
After Lucius finished speaking, he opened a corner of his cloak, revealing a severed head hidden under a hood at his waist.
Bella's pupils suddenly contracted, and all the sarcastic words she wanted to say stuck in her throat.
Her face turned pale and then flushed, but she finally gritted her teeth and stepped aside to make way for him, watching helplessly as he strode away.
Lucius pulled his cloak tighter, stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button for the sixteenth floor.
In just a few breaths, a clear metallic clang was heard, and the gate slid open, revealing a deep, secluded corridor.
The corridor was paved with marble, and at the end stood a sandalwood door with a gilded plaque hanging in the center above it, bearing the words "Office of the Minister of Magic".
Lucius took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, and stepped forward to knock three times on the door.
Before long, a lazy voice drifted over.
"Come in."
He lowered his head and pushed open the door to enter, but dared not peek out privately. He only stared at the tips of his own shoes, took the human head from his arms, and placed it on the ground.
"Master, the person you requested has returned."
"Well done," Voldemort said softly. "Go."
Lucius felt as if he had been granted a pardon upon hearing this, and secretly exhaled a breath of relief. Although his steps were steady as he turned around, the hem of his robe trembled slightly in the wind.
Just as he grasped the doorknob, he suddenly heard a slow, deliberate voice drift from behind him, "How's your son doing lately, Lucius?"
These words sent chills down Lucius's spine, his heart leaped into his throat, and his Adam's apple bobbed several times before he carefully replied, "I don't know, Master."
"He never wrote back to me."
Voldemort chuckled softly, "Go, Lucius Malfoy, my loyal friend."
"I trust your family just as much as I trust you."
Lucius shivered, bowed again, and hurriedly stepped out the door.
Once everyone had left and the room was quiet, Voldemort extended his wand and pointed it at the severed head on the ground.
In an instant, flesh and blood rolled across the severed neck, tendons and veins sprouted from between the bone fragments, and then solidified into a throat, forming a cavity, and in no time, a complete human body was reconstructed.
"So, what was the result?"
Voldemort flicked his wand, and the hood on the black-robed man's head fell off by itself, revealing an ordinary-looking face.
"Did you kill Harry Potter, Mr. Helbo?"
Halberd's eyes were fixed, and he uttered each word like a puppet on strings: "No, I was lucky enough to escape from Potter and Dumbledore."
Voldemort toyed with his wand, lost in thought, and said, "This is really bad news."
"He created the basilisk, invented the Horcruxes, and even the infamous dark wizard Helbo couldn't do anything to our renowned savior."
Helbo remained silent, his face expressionless, staring blankly into the void ahead.
Voldemort tapped his fingers on the table a few times. After a long pause, he suddenly asked, "How much longer do you think Dumbledore has to live?"
"More than ten years."
"How big do you think the gap is between me and Porter?"
"I don't know, but you can't beat him, and he's still growing; he'll get stronger and stronger."
As soon as he finished speaking, Voldemort's expression turned even more unpleasant.
After an unknown amount of time had passed, Voldemort suddenly spoke, his voice devoid of any human emotion.
"Tell me, Helbo, what else in this world could kill Harry Potter?"
Without a second thought, Herbo replied immediately, "Find the Horcrux I left behind and make me whole again."
Voldemort became interested upon hearing this and was about to ask for more details when he heard a commotion erupt on the porch outside the door.
At first, he ignored it and continued talking to Herbo, but the noise only grew louder and louder.
The footsteps were chaotic like a thousand horses galloping, and the wails were disorderly and heart-wrenching, as if the gates of the underworld had been broken and a hundred ghosts were walking at night. How could it be suppressed?
Voldemort's anger was rising at the turmoil in the Church of God. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door three times, and then Bella's urgent voice came through.
"Master, we're under attack!"
"It's a Dementor!"
Let's set aside Voldemort for now and talk about Harry's situation.
It turns out that after Helbo fled, Harry and Dumbledore did not leave immediately.
Firstly, Harry had not yet said goodbye to Figg, and secondly, the fierce battle with Helbo had terrified the old lady.
Harry then comforted the old woman, finally calming her down.
After calming them down, we returned to No. 4, Privet Road.
Fang pushed open the door and saw a dozen or so figures standing in the dark hall, most of them unfamiliar faces.
Harry was about to draw his wand and cast a spell, but the two leaders recognized him. They quickly put away their wands, stepped forward, clasped their hands in greeting, and said, "Harry greets Godfather and Uncle. May I ask what brings you two here?"
Blackburn, who was leaning against the wall, grinned when he saw Harry, rushed forward, grabbed Harry's arm, and gave him a tight hug.
"Of course, we've come to take you back to our command post!"
He then playfully punched him in the chest, winking and saying, "You're much better off than James and I were back then. Being tried by the Ministry of Magic and Wizengamor is definitely something that will go down in history!"
Lupin, listening nearby, frowned repeatedly at Blake's unrestrained remarks.
He casually popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth to stop him from speaking. Then he went over and thoroughly checked Harry from head to toe.
Seeing that Harry was only covered in dust and had minor abrasions, with no serious injuries, he finally relaxed.
He breathed a sigh of relief and said gently, "Professor Dumbledore just sent us a message saying that you have been attacked by Voldemort."
"For safety reasons, I think you should need an advance guard."
After saying this, he stepped aside, and the wizards behind him bowed and stepped forward, craning their necks to look.
"Dedalow Dygmun. You even bought me a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Potter!"
"Stoj Bodmore".
"Amelie Vance. I've read your autobiography."
"Nifadora! Tonks!"
Just then, a witch burst out from the crowd. Her hair, like steel needles standing on end and dyed a deep purplish-red, grabbed Harry's wrists without a word, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
"I was a Hufflepuff student in the class of '84. I have a very strong memory of the year you enrolled!"
"I beat up Slytherin and even killed a troll, but unfortunately that was my last year at Hogwarts—"
Tonks is a chatterbox; once the floodgates are opened, he can't stop.
He talked about everything from the old Quidditch pitch to the interesting stories of the Great Hall banquet, becoming more and more animated as he spoke.
When she got to the point of exhilaration, her short hair on top of her head seemed to be overturned like a dye vat, with red, orange, yellow and green colors rotating endlessly, reflecting a dazzling array of colors throughout the room.
Harry exclaimed in surprise, "Huh! Sister, your hair is so strange! How come it changes color every three sentences?"
Tonks puffed out his chest, a smug look on his face, and said, "I can change more than just my hair; I'm a natural-born disguise Magus."
As soon as she finished speaking, her face began to writhe like paste.
In an instant, he transformed into Harry Potter, his features perfectly capturing his appearance; in a blink, he became Rupert Hooper, looking weary and weathered; and in the blink of an eye, he conjured up the silhouette of Black, truly a free spirit.
Harry was mesmerized and couldn't help but clap and cheer.
Seeing the two of them talking so animatedly, Lupin frowned slightly, coughed a few times, and said sternly, "Tonks, don't forget why we're here."
"Show me the attitude you'd expect from an Auror!"
Tonks was taken aback by what he heard, and looked at Lupin blankly. "Is this how Aurors treat Harry?"
"When I first became an intern Auror, the first thing I received before my salary was the money Harry gave me to buy alcohol."
These words struck the ground, and sure enough, three or five wizards of Auror descent clapped in agreement, all saying they had long been indebted to Harry.
Lu Ping's face immediately turned ashen, veins throbbing at the corners of his eyes, and he mumbled, "In short, we should go now."
Once outside the house, the group mounted their flying brooms and formed a goose-feather formation in mid-air, hanging above the privet road like stars surrounding the moon.
Harry stood alone in front of the door, not moving, looking up at the figures in the night sky.
"Aren't you going to leave?" Dumbledore strolled to his side, scrutinizing him in the cold moonlight. "Once we get there, we'll have a lot of work to do—like your trial."
Harry ignored this and instead stroked his chin thoughtfully, saying, "Professor, you've personally experienced the methods of that man in black."
"Even if all the sisters and brothers who were protecting you tonight were piled up together, they still couldn't withstand that scoundrel's curse."
"What use is it for the professor to specifically mobilize this team?"
"—They are all members of the Order of the Phoenix." After a long silence, Dumbledore spoke up: "You should show yourself more often and interact with them more."
"I think there's no need for another regime."
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